INTRODUCTION 


TO 


PSYCHOLOGICAL   THEORY 


BY 


BOKDEN  P.  BOWKE 

PRQFESSOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY  IN  BOSTON   UNIVERSITY 
AUTHOR  OF  "METAPHYSICS" 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   FRANKLIN    SQUARE 


Copyright,  1886,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


PREFACE. 


THE  aim  of  this  work  is  given  in  its  title.  First,  it  is 
an  "  introduction  "  only,  and  does  not  go  into  the  details 
or-  the  literature  of  the  subject.  The  aim  is  to  point  out 
the  highways  of  psychology,  rather  than  its  myriad  by- 
ways. Secondly,  it  is  an  "  introduction  to  psychological 
theory,"  and  aims  less  at  a  knowledge  of  facts  than  at 
an  understanding  of  principles.  Until  principles  are  set- 
tled there  is  no  bar  to  the  most  fantastic  theories  and 
interpretations. 

These  principles  being  illustrated  in  the  most  common 
facts  of  experience,  it  is  not  necessary  to  psychological 
insight  to  make  an  anthology  of  madhouse  and  hospital 
stories.  Such  a  procedure  has  about  the  same  relation  -to 
psychology  that  the  various  books  of  "  wonders  "  or  the 
"  brilliant  experiments  "  of  the  popular  lecturer  have  to 
sober  physical  science.  An  odor  of  quackery  is  percep- 
tible in  both  cases. 

The  plan  of  the  work  precludes  much  attention  to  physi- 
ological psychology.  Whatever  the  merits  of  this  science 
may  be,  it  presupposes  pure  psychology.  If  our  aim  is  to 
give  a  physiological  explanation  of  psychological  facts, 


2203911 


VI  PREFACE. 

» 

we  must  first  know  the  facts.  Or  if  our  aim  is  the  more 
modest  one  of  finding  the  physical  conditions  or  attend- 
ants of  mental  facts,  again  we  must  know  the  facts.  But 
this  knowledge  is  not  possible  by  the  way  of  physiology, 
and  in  any  case  the  mental  facts  remain  what  they  al- 
ways were.  Their  likenesses  and  differences  and  essential 
nature  would  not  be  changed  if  physiology  were  supreme. 
Even  the  "  new  psychology  "  would  not  give  us  new  men- 
tal facts,  but  only  a  new  interpretation  of  the  old  facts. 
The  Zeitgeist  itself  begins  at  last  to  see  this ;  and  the 
nai've  onslaughts  on  the  "  old  psychology "  are  happily 
growing  fewer.  Psychological  literature  shows  very 
marked  progress  in  this  respect  within  the  last  twenty 
years.  Physiology  remains  a  most  estimable  science,  but 
the  physiological  reconstruction  of  psychology  has  been 
postponed.  The  study  of  the  physical  conditions  of  our 
mental  life  has  a  pathological  and  practical  importance ; 
but  it  does  not  promise  any  valuable  psychological  results, 
at  .least  for  those  who  can  distinguish  between  the  physi- 
cal conditions  and  the  mental  facts  which  they  condition. 

The  limitation  of  plan  involves  many  omissions ;  and 
in  these  there  will  seem  to  be  a  measure  of  arbitrariness. 
Hence  many  will  not  find  here  what  they  want,  and  proba- 
bly still  more  will  find  what  they  do  not  want.  There 
seems  to  be  no  way  of  adjusting  so  grave  a  difficulty 
except  by  maintaining,  on  the  one  hand,  freedom  to  pub- 
lish, and,  on  the  other,  freedom  not  to  read. 

BORDEN   P.    BOWNE. 
BOSTON,  September,  1886. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Definition  of  Psychology,  p.  1. — Possible  Directions  of  Psychological 
Study,  p.  1.  —  Psychology  mainly  an  Introspective  Science,  p.  2.  — 
Objections  to  the  Introspective  Method,  p.  3.  —  Reasons  for  the  slow 
Growth  of  Psychology,  p.  4. 


PART  I. 

THE  FACTORS  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   SUBJECT  OF   THE   MENTAL   LIFE     ...      11 

Reality  of  Self  the  Condition  of  the  Mental  Life,  p.  11. — Objections 
considered,  p.  11. — Impossibility  of  Rational  Consciousness  apart 
from  an  Abiding  Self,  p.  12. —  A  Word  on  Method,  p.  14.  —  Defini- 
tion of  Materialism,  p.  15.  —  Materialism  unclear  iu  its  Meaning, 
p.  16. — Ambiguity  of  the  Facts  of  Mental  Dependence,  p.  18. — 
Difficulties  of  Materialism,  p.  19.  —  Hylozoistic  Materialism,  p.  21. 
—  Relation  of  Hylozoism  to  Physics,  p.  22.  —  Untenability  of  Hylo- 
zoistic Materialism,  p.  25.  —  Bearing  of  Materialism  on  Life  and 
Action,  p.  30.  —  Bearing  of  Materialism  on  Knowledge,  p.  31. — 
Scepticism  involved  in  Materialism,  p.  34.  —  Man  a  Dual  Being, 
p.  36.  —  Value  of  this  View,  p.  36. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

PAQI 

SENSATION 39 

Physical  Conditions  of  Sensation,  p.  40.  —  Sensation  not  explained  by 
its  Physical  Conditions,  p.  40.  —  Forms  of  Nervous  Stimulus,  p.  41. 

—  Attempts  to  explain  Differences  of  Sensation,  p.  43.  —  Our  Igno- 
rance of  Nervous  Action  no  Psychological  Loss,  p.  48. — Kelation  of 
Sensation  to  Stimulus,  p.  49.  —  Weber's  Facts  and  Fechner's  Theory, 
p.  50.  —  Difficulties  of  Fechner's  Law,  p.   52.  —  Interpretations  of 
Fechner's  Law,  p.  53.  — Differences  in  Simple  Sensations,  p.  56. — 
Double  Aspect  of  Sensations,  p.  58.  —  Organic  Sensations,  p.  59.  — 
Source  of  the  Sensations  arising  from  Motion,  p.  59.  —  Arguments 
.for  Sub-conscious  Sensations,  p.  62.  —  Criticism  of  the  Same,  p.  65. 

—  Simplicity  of  Sensations,  p.  69. — Unclearness  of  the  Doctrine, 
p.  70. 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  MECHANISM   OF   REPRODUCTION.     ...     73 

Facts  of  Keproduction,  p.  73.  —  Two  Classes  of  Theories,  p.  75. — Her- 
bart's  Theory,  p.  76.  —  Ambiguity  and  Difficulties  of  Herbart's 
Theory,  p.  77.  —  Uncertainty  of  the  English  Associationalists,  p.  82. 

—  Physiological  Theories  of  Reproduction,  p.  83.  —  Shortcomings  of 
all  Cerebral  Theories,  p.  84.  —  Failure  of  every  Theory  to  give  a  true 
Insight,  p.  86. —  Statement  of  Results,  p.  87.  — Laws  of  Association, 
p.   90.  —  The  Laws  criticised,  p.  90.  —  Sub-conscious   Association, 
p.  96. 


APPENDIX  TO  CHAPTER  III. 

CEREBRAL   THEORY   OP  REPRODUCTION    ...      99 

Forms  and  Implications  of  the  Theory,  p.  99.  —  Complexity  of  the  Cell 
Theory,  p.  101.  Difficulty  of  keeping  Impressions  separated, 
p.  104. — Obscurity  of  the  Theory  on  Important  Points,  p.  105. — 
No  Account  given  of  Actual  Association,  p.  107.  —  Physiological 
Difficulties,  p.  109.  —  Habit  Form  of  the  Cerebral  Theory,  p.  111.  — 
Difficulties  of  this  View,  p.  112.  —  Sense  in  which  the  Brain  is  the 
Organ  of  Memory,  p.  113. 


CONTENTS.  IX 


CHAPTER  IY. 

PAGE 

THE  THOUGHT   FACTOR.      .      .      .    '  .        115 

The  Two  Schools  of  Psychology,  p.  115.  —  Psychological  and  Philo- 
sophical Aspect  of  their  Differences,  p.  116.  —  Primal  Shortcoming 
of  Sensationalism,  p.  118. — Judgments  cannot  arise  through  Asso- 
ciation alone,  p.  119.  — Two  Distinct  Processes  in  the  Mental  Life, 
p.  121.  —  Ambiguity  in  the  Facts  of  Mental  Development  overlooked 
by  Sensationalists,  p.  123.  —  The  Categories,  p.  126.  —  Time,  p.  127. 

—  Time  not  a  Quality  of  Mental  States,  nor  an  Abstraction  from 
them,  p.  128.  —  The  Sequence  of  Ideas  not  the  Idea  of  Sequence, 
p.  128.  —  Memory  not  the  Source  of  the  Idea,  p.  129.  — The  Idea  of 
Time  not  dependent  on  the  Idea  of  Causation,  p.  131.  — Fundamen- 
tally, Time  is  a  Law  of  Mental  Synthesis,  p.  131.  —  Space,  p.  133. 

—  Different  Views  of  Space,  p.  133.  —  Associational  View,  p.  134. 

—  Ambiguity  and  Untenability  of  this  View,  p.  135.  — Superficiality 
of  the  Common  View,  p.  143.  —  The  Idea  of  Space  not  explained  by 
the  Extension  of  the  Nerves  or  by  the  Extension  of  the  Soul,  p.  144. 

—  The  Source  of  the  Idea  must  be  sought  for  in  the  Nature  of  the 
Mind,  p.  148.  —  Space  essentially  a  Law  of  Mental  Synthesis,  p.  149. 

—  The  Unity  and  Infinity  of  Space  a  Consequence  of  this  Law,  p.  149. 

—  Eelation  of  Sense  Experience  to  the  Idea,  p.  151. — ^"-dimen- 
sional Space,  p.  151.  —  Number,  p.  153.  —  Number  purely  a  Mental 
Product,  p.  153.  — Failure  of  the  Attempts  to  deduce  it  from  Sense 
Experience,  p.  154.  —  Number  as  the  Science  of  Pure  Time,  p.  156.  — 
Substance,  p.  158.  — This  Idea  not  derived  from  the  Senses,  p.  158.  — 
Sensationalist  Doctrine  of  Substance,  p.  160.  — Criticism  of  the  Same, 
p.   160.  —  Cause,   p.   165. — Criticism  of  the  Sensational   Theorj', 
p.  167.  —  Claim  that  the   Idea  of  Causation    arises  only  from  our 
Volitional  Activity,  p.  171.  —  The  Truth  in  this  Claim,  p.  172. 


APPENDIX  TO  CHAPTER  IY 175 

Attempt  to  found  Sensationalism  on  the  Experience  of  the  Race,  p.  1 75. 
—  Mutual  Opposition  of  Sensationalism  and  Materialism,  p.  175.  — 
Difficulty  of  connecting  the  Experience  of  the  Individual  with  that 
of  the  Race,  p.  178.  —  Heredity  the  Problem,  not  its  Solution, 
p.  178.  —  Ambiguity  of  the  Facts,  p.  178.  —  Inability  of  Heredity  to 
create  New  Ideas,  p.  180.  —  Mechanical  Nature  of  the  Doctrine, 
p.  180. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PAOI 

.  THE   FEELINGS 182 

Feeling  undefinable,  p.  182.  — Feeling  cannot  be  deduced,  p.  183.  — 
Feeling  cannot  be  understood  through  its  Conditions,  p.  186.  — 
Physical  Feelings,  p.  188.  —  Obscurity  of  the  Nervous  Processes 
which  condition  them,  p.  189.  —  No  satisfactory  Classification  of 
the  Feelings  which  have  only  a  Mental  Source,  p.  191.  —  Mental 
Feelings  as  Functional,  p.  191.  —  Emptiness  of  this  Conception  when 
made  Universal,  p.  193.  —  The  Ego  Feelings,  p.  193.  —  Dependence 
of  Feeling  on  its  Kelation  to  Self-consciousness,  p.  194.  —  The  Social 
Feelings,  p.  195.  —  Attempts  to  deduce  them  from  Selfish  Feeling, 
p.  195.  — Relation  of  the  Ego  Feelings  to  Social  Relations,  p.  197. 

—  ^Esthetic    Feeling,   p.    198.  —  ^Esthetic    Judgments  founded  on 
Esthetic  Feeling,  p.   198.  —  Various   Forms  of  ^Esthetic   Feeling, 
p.    199.  —  Significance    of   Association    for    ./Esthetics,    p.    200.  — 
Reasons  for  the  Diversity  of  Esthetic  Judgments,  p.  201.  —  Why 
do  Objects  please  us  aesthetically  ?  p.  201.  —  Insufficiency  of  Physio- 
logical Explanations,  p.  202.  —  Failure  of  Attempts  to  base  ./Esthetics 
on  a  Single  Principle,  p.  203. — Uncertainty  of  the  Boundaries  of 
the  ./Esthetic  Realm,  p.  204.  —  The  Moral  Feelings,  p.  205.  —  Two 
Directions  of   Ethical  Study,   p.    206.  —  The  basal   Ethical  Fact, 
p.  206.  —  Double  Standard  of  Ethical  Judgment,  p.  207.  —  Deduc- 
tions and  Reductions  of  the  Moral  Sentiments,  p.  209.  —  Religious 
Feeling,  p.  210.  —  Theories  of  the  same,    p.  211. — The   Desires, 
p.  214. — The  Object  of  Desire,  p.  214.  —  Pleasures  not  Commen- 
surable,  p.   215.  —  Direction  and  Control  of  Feeling,  p.   216.  — 
Transition  to  Willing,  p.  217. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

WILL   AND   ACTION 219 

Not  all  Activity  is  Volitional,  p.  220.  —  Constitutional  Activity,  p.  220. 

—  Volition   indefinable,  p.   221.  —  Volition  distinguished  from  its 
Psychological  Attendants,  p.  221. — Volition  implies  Consciousness, 
p.  222.  —  In  Spontaneous  Thought  Volition  regarded  as  Free,  p.  222. 

—  What    this    Freedom  means,   p.    223.  —  Opposing  Conceptions, 
p.  22£  —  Determinism  not  founded  on  Consciousness,  p.  225.  — 
Bearing  of  the  same  on  Action  and  Knowledge,  p.  226.  —  Reasons 
for  Determinism,   p.  228.  —  The   Problem   speculatively  insoluble, 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGE 

p.  230.  —  Various  Misunderstandings,  p.  231.  —  Freedom  implied  as 
a  Condition  of  Rational  and  Social  Life,  p.  232.  —  Limitation  of 
Freedom,  p.  233. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS      .      .  235 

Definitions  of  Consciousness  tautologous,  p.  235.  —  Traditional  Con- 
fusion, p.  235.  —  Consciousness  not  a  Faculty,  p.  237.  —  Antithesis 
of  Subject  and  Object  the  Universal  Form  of  Consciousness,  p.  238.  — 
Objections  by  Sensationalism,  p.  238.  —  Varying  Degrees  of  Con- 
sciousness, p.  239.  —  Consciousness  dependent  on  Thought  as  well  as 
on  the  Sensibility,  p.  241.  —  Misunderstanding  of  the  Antithesis  of 
Subject  and  Object,  p.  242.  — The  two  Factors  of  Self-consciousness, 
p.  244.  —  The  Conception  of  Self  not  an  Experience  of  Self,  p.  245.  — 
Self-experience  admits  of  no  Deduction,  p.  246.  —  Development  of 
Self-experience  into  Self-knowledge,  p.  248. 


PART  II. 

THE  FACTORS  IN   COMBINATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PERCEPTION 253 

Perception  a  Complex  Process,  p.  253.  —  Perception  a  Keaction  of  the 
Mind  against  External  Action,  p.  254.  —  This  External  Action  no 
Copy  of  the  Object,  p.  255.  — This  Fact  covered  up  with  Figures  of 
Speech,  p.  256.  —  Implications  of  Valid  Perception,  p.  258.  —  Possi- 
bility of  Error,  p.  259.  —  The  Perception  of  Things  and  that  of  Space 
Relations  arise  together,  p.  260.  —  Difficulty  of  determining  the 
Localizing  Power  of  the  Senses  when  taken  separately,  p.  261. — 
Complete  Perception  dependent  on  Classification,  p.  262.  —  Distinc- 
tion between  the  Appearance  and  the  Thing,  p.  263.  —  Origin  of 
the  Acquired  Perceptions,  p.  263.  —  Source  of  Sense  Illusions,  p.  264. 
Association  in  Perception,  p.  265.  —  Use  made  by  Berkeley  of  this 
Principle,  p.  266.  —  Dependence  of  Perception  on  Reproduction, 
p.  268. 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

i 

CHAPTER  II. 

PAGX 

THE   FORMS   OP  REPRODUCTION    ....  269 

No  consistent  Terminology,  p.  271.  —  Differences  of  Memory,  Fantasy, 
and  Imagination,  p.  271. — Memory  follows  the  Order  of  Mental 
Development,  p.  272.  —  Laws  of  Memory,  p.  273.  —  The  Possibility 
of  Reproduction  depends  on  the  Nature  of  the  Original  Experience, 
p.  274.  — Differences  in  Memory,  p.  275.  — The  Fantasy,  p.  276. — 
Significance  of  the  Imagination  for  the  Rational  Life,  p.  277.  —  Con- 
trol of  Reproduction,  p.  278. 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  THOUGHT   PROCESS 280 

Two  Stages  of  Thought,  p.  280.  —  Relation  of  the  Judgment  to  Knowl- 
edge, p.  281.  — Relation  of  the  Universal  to  the  Judgment,  p.  281.  — 
Conditions  of  the  Universal,  p.  282.  —  Objections  from  the  Associa- 
tionalists,  p.  282.  —  Thought  and  Language,  p.  283.  —  Abstraction, 
p.  284.  —  Advantage  and  Disadvantage  of  Language,  p.  285.  —  Gene- 
sis of  Judgments,  p.  285.  —  The  Judgment  in  Formal  Logic,  p.  287.  — 
Artificial  Nature  of  the  Logical  Doctrine,  p.  288.  —  Truth  and  Error, 
p.  290.  —  Nature  of  Inference,  p.  292.  —  The  Doctrine  of  Inference  in 
Formal  Logic  artificial  and  arbitrary,  p.  293.  —  Concerning  Intui- 
tions, p.  294.  —  Two  Questions  to  be  distinguished,  p.  294.  —  Mathe- 
matics a  Stumbling-block  to  Empiricism,  p.  294.  — Belief,  p.  296.  — 
Most  Beliefs  represent,  not  reasoned  Truths,  but  practical  Assump- 
tions, p.  297. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

INTERACTION  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY   .   .   .  298 

Problem  defined,  p.  298.  —  All  Interaction  mysterious,  p.  298.  —  Seat 
of  the  Soul,  p.  299.  —  Meaning  of  the  •Question,  p.  299.  —  As  com- 
monly understood  the  Question  both  idle  and  empty,  p.  300.  —  Use 
of  the  Body  by  the  Soul,  p.  301.  —  Movements  arising  apart  from 
Volition,  p.  301.  —  Significance  of  the  Mind  for  Physical  Develop- 
ment, p.  304.  —  Two  Classes  of  Physical  Habits,  p.  305.  —  The  Soul 
as  the  Ground  of  Physical  Structure,  p.  306.  —  Cerebral  Localization 
of  Mental  Functions,  p.  307.  —  Nervous  Action  in  Mental  Work, 


CONTENTS.  Xlll 

PAGE 


p.  308.  —  Thought  not  a  Transformation  of  Nervous  Energy,  p.  309. 
—  Significance  of  the  Body  for  the  Mental  Life,  p.  311.  —  Can  the 
Mental  Life  go  on  apart  from  the  Body  ?  p.  315.  —  Question  admits 
of  no  Speculative  Solution,  p.  316. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SLEEP  AND   ABNORMAL  MENTAL   PHENOMENA  .      .  319 

Cause  of  Sleep  not  fully  understood,  p.  319.  —  Depth  of  Sleep,  p.  320.  — 
Fantastic  Nature  of  Dreams,  p.  320.  —  Origin  of  Dreams  in  Actual 
Sensations,  p.  321.  — Material  of  Dreams  drawn  from  waking  Expe- 
rience, p.  322.  —  No  single  Explanation  of  Dreams  possible,  p.  322.  — 
Is  the  Mind  ever  Inactive  ?  p.  323.  —  The  Hypnotic  State,  p.  325. 
—  Insanity,  p.  326.  —  Its  Psychological  Features,  p.  326.  —  Grounds 
of  Insanity,  p.  327.  —  Extraordinary  Mental  Powers,  p.  328. 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


INTRODUCTION. 

PSYCHOLOGY  deals  with  mental  facts  and  processes.  It 
aims  to  describe  and  classify  those  facts  and  processes,  to 
discover  and  state  their  laws,  and  to  form  some  theory 
concerning  their  origin  and  cause.  Corresponding  to  this 
complex  aim,  psychology,  like  all  other  sciences,  may  be 
descriptive  and  theoretical.  We  may  content  ourselves  with 
simply  describing  and  classifying  the  facts  and  processes. 
The  result  is  empirical  psychology.  From  this  as  a  starting- 
point  we  may  go  on  to  theorize  concerning  the  origin  and 
causes  of  the  facts  and  processes  discovered.  The  result  is 
theoretical, 'or  philosophical,  psychology.  But  in  psychol- 
ogy, as  in  most  other  sciences,  these  two  factors,  though 
logically  successive,  are  practically  contemporaneous.  No 
science  completes  its  collection  of  facts  before  it  begins 
to  theorize :  but  the  study  of  fact  and  the  formation  of 
theory  go  together.  This  is  especially  true  in  psychology, 
where  the  statement  of  the  facts  themselves  often  involves 
a  theory. 

Psychological  study  may  take  several  directions  :  — 
1.  We  may  study  the  facts  and  laws  of  mind  in  general, 
without  reference  to  individual  peculiarities  or  to  concrete 
application.     In  this  case  the  aim  is  to  discover  the  essen- 
tial facts  and  factors  of  the  mental  life.     By  observation  we 

1 


a  PSYCHOLOGY. 

learn  the  facts  and  processes  ;  by  analysis  we  seek  to  decom- 
pose them  into  their  ultimate  elements  ;  and,  finally,  we 
seek  to  exhibit  the  actual  mental  life  as  a  synthesis  of  these 
elements.  The  product  of  such  study  is  pure  or  abstract 
psychology. 

2.  The  mental  life  is  not  perfect  from  the  start,  but  is 
subject  to  a  law  of  growth.     We  may  study  it,  then,  from 
the  genetic  side,  and  trace  the  order  of  its  unfolding.    Such 
study  would  have  especial  significance  for  the  theory  of 
education.     Some  speculators  have  thought  it  possible  by 
this  method,  not  merely  to  discover  the  order  of  temporal 
development,  but  also  to  deduce  the  later  stages  as  neces- 
sary results  of  the  earlier  ones.     We  shall  find  reasons  for 
doubting  this  view. 

3.  The  mental  life  is  physically  conditioned;  and, instead 
of  studying  mental  facts  by  themselves,  we  may  study  them 
in  relation  to  the  organism.     This  gives  rise  to  a  border 
science,  physiological   psychology.     This   does   not   study 
physiology  in  general,  but  physiology  in  its  relation  to  men- 
tal facts.     Nor  does  it  study  psychology  in  general,  but 
psychology  as  conditioned  by  the  organism. 

Pure  psychology  is  plainly  the  presupposition  of  all  other 
forms  of  psychological  study  ;  as  pure  logic  or  pure  me- 
chanics is  the  presupposition  of  applied  logic  or  applied 
mechanics.  Our  work  will  be  mainly  in  pure  psychology, 
partly  descriptive,  partly  theoretical,  and  not  without  some 
reference  to  physiology. 

The  facts  of  the  objective  sciences  are  discovered  through 
the  senses.  The  facts  of  psychology  are  chiefly  revealed 
only  in  consciousness.  Instead  of  looking  without  to  find 
them,  we  look  within.  Our  method,  therefore,  must  be 
mainly  introspective.  Mind  can  be  studied  to  some  extent 
in  history,  in  institutions,  in  literature,  and  especially  in  lan- 
guage. In  these  we  see  the  mind  manifesting  its  nature, 
and  uttering  its  spontaneous,  and  unsophisticated  convic- 


INTRODUCTION.  d 

tions.  Language  abounds  in  psychological  theories  and 
classifications,  which  serve  as  the  starting-point  even  of 
scientific  psychology.  Thought,  feeling,  and  volition  ;  sen- 
sation, emotion,  and  understanding;  desire,  choice,  and 
effort ;  body,  soul,  and  spirit,  —  are  illustrations.  Such 
terms  represent  classifications,  distinctions,  and  theories 
produced  by  the  spontaneous  thinking  of  mankind.  Again, 
the  structure  of  language  itself  is  an  incarnation  of  the  laws 
of  thought ;  so  much  so,  that  Aristotle  sought  to  determine 
the  essential  categories  of  thinking  by  an  analysis  of  gram- 
matical forms.  The  noun,  the  adjective,  and  the  active 
verb  are  but  the  reappearance  under  the  forms  of  language 
of  the  thought-forms  of  substance  and  attribute,  cause  and 
effect.  In  this  sense  there  can  be  an  objective  study  of 
thought.  This  does  not  mean,  of  course,  that  mind  or 
thought  can  be  presented  to  the  senses  ;  but  only  that  the 
nature  of  mind  can  be  studied  in  its  products. 

Nevertheless,  all  our  knowledge  of  mind  derived  from  its 
objective  study  must  come  back  to  consciousness,  either  for 
its  meaning  or  for  its  verification.  No  language  concern- 
ing mental  facts  is  intelligible  unless  we  have  had  expe- 
rience of  the  facts  for  ourselves.  No  theory  of  them  is 
verified  until  we  have  compared  it  with  the  facts  in  our 
own  consciousness  and  have  found  them  to  agree.  Psy- 
chology, then,  is  finally  based  on  introspection.  It  is  a 
subjective  rather  than  an  objective  science. 

This  fact  has  been  made  the  ground  for  much  objection. 
Some  have  denied  the  possibility  of  inspecting  consciousness 
at  all ;  others  have  denied  the  trustworthiness  of  conscious- 
ness. According  to  the  latter,  consciousness  cannot  even 
tell  us  whether  we  are  cold  or  hot.  The  former  claim  has 
the  slight  psychological  foundation  that  many  mental  states, 
pre-eminently  emotions,  cannot  be  directly  inspected  with- 
out changing  their  character  to  some  extent ;  and  therefore 
they  have  to  be  indirectly  studied  in  memory.  The  latter 


PSYCHOLOGY. 

claim  has  the  slight  historical  justification  that  careless 
writers  have  often  extended  consciousness  beyond  its 
proper  limits  ;  so  that,  instead  of  distinguishing  between 
the  facts  of  consciousness  and  their  interpretation,  they 
have  made  consciousness  cover  both.  The  proper  facts  of 
consciousness  admit  of  no  scepticism.  The  one  who  feels 
cold  is  cold ;  but  it  may  be  that  this  feeling,  instead  of  its 
ordinary  antecedent,  has  an  abnormal  state  of  the  nervous 
system  as  its  cause.  We  trust  the  consciousness  even  of 
the  insane ;  doubt  concerns  only  its  interpretation.  Re- 
membering, these  limitations,  any  doubt  of  the  trustworthi- 
ness of  consciousness  must  seem  palpably  and  flagrantly 
absurd. 

Mental  facts  are  nearest  of  all,  and  yet  psychology 
develops  slowly.  The  objective  sciences  are  of  an  earlier 
birth  and  a  more  rapid  growth.  This  is  due  to  several 
facts :  — 

1.  The  mind  is  objective  in  its  procedure,  and  thinks  of 
itself  last.     We  tend  to  lose  ourselves  in  our  objects  ;  and 
the  processes  of  knowing  are  so  immediate,  that  it  never 
occurs  to  us  that  there  is  a  process.     This  fact  has  the 
highest  significance  for  mental  health  and  development. 
The  mind  is  taken  out  of  itself  and  introduced  to  the  great 
world  of  things,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  to  be  its  chief 
occupation  and  the  great  source  of  its  growth.     The  im- 
plicit trust  of  the  mind  in  knowledge  is  shaken  only   as 
it  stumbles  upon  contradictions   and   absurdities,  and   is 
forced   thereby  to    analyze   its   processes   and   revise   its 
assumptions. 

2.  The  phenomena  are  complicated,  and  often  admit  of 
no  description.     Shades  of   feeling   and  emotion  may  be 
felt,  but  not  described.    Language,  too,  is  formed  under 
the  influence  of  external  objects,  and  hence  is  vague,  and 
often  misleading,  in  its  application  to  mental  states.    More- 
over, the  mind,  because  of  its  objective  tendency,  becomes 


INTRODUCTION.  O 

disinclined  to  look  within.  Our  mental  states  do  not  stand 
out  in  consciousness  with  the  sharpness  of  objects  in  space. 
Hence  the  paradox,  that  there  is  nothing  so  hard  to  study 
as  ourselves. 

3.  The  facts  admit  of  no  exact  measurement.     Physical 
science  depends  especially   upon  measurement,  either   of 
size,  duration,  weight,  or  intensity.     Its  facts  and  laws  first 
become  fruitful  when  they  become  numerical.     The  fact  of 
gravitation  was  known  long  before  Newton,  and  was  of  no 
significance.     It  was  the  discovery  of    its  numerical  law 
which  first  gave  it  meaning.     But  thoughts  and  feelings 
have    no    size;    and    their    intensity   admits   of  no  exact 
numerical  determination. 

4.  Psychology  admits  of  almost  no  experiment.   In  phys- 
iological psychology  a  little  experiment  is  possible ;  but  in 
pure  psychology  no  significant  experiments  can  be  made. 
It  is,  then,  neither  a  mathematical,  nor  a  deductive,  nor  an 
experimental  science.     We  can  only  aim  to  describe  and 
classify  the  facts,  and  to  form   some  conception  of  their 
cause.     On  these  accounts  many  have  been  pleased  to  deny 
that  psychology  is  a  science  at  all.     They  should  rather  say 
that  it  is  not  a  certain  kind  of  science.     A  systematic  ex- 
position of  a  certain  set  of  facts,  and  a  theorizing  on  them 
in  accordance  with  their  nature,  constitute  the  science  of 
that  set  of  facts.     It  is  only  the  mentally  one-eyed  who 
insist  that  all  facts  shall  be  treated  by  the  same  method, 
regardless  of  differences  of  nature. 

No  one  has  immediate  knowledge  of  any  mental  life  but 
his  own.  The  mental  life  of  all  others  is  absolutely  hidden 
from  our  senses.  Their  thoughts  and  feelings  are  open  to 
no  direct  inspection.  All  we'  can  see  in  connection  with 
others  is  sundry  changes  and  movements  of  the  organism ; 
and  all  we  know  of  their  inner  life  is  reached  by  analogical 
inference,  whereby  we  assimilate  it  to  our  own.  Nor  is  it 
easy  to  find  physical  marks  which  certainly  denote  intelli- 


6  PSYCHOLOGY. 

gence.  In  the  case  of  man,  they  consist  chiefly  in  the 
voluntary  movements  and  in  language.  For  the  animals, 
we  have  only  the  voluntary  movements.  In  both  cases, 
the  facts  of  reflex  action  often  make  it  doubtful  whether 
what  we  call  voluntary  movements  are  really  such ; 
and  in  both  cases,  also,  their  interpretation  must  be 
learned  from  within.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  the  starting- 
point  of  psychology  must  be  the  analysis  of  the  individual 
consciousness.  Oversight  of  this  patent  fact  has  led  to 
the  fancy  that  psychology  ought  to  begin  by  studying  the 
mental  phenomena  of  the  lower  animals.  The  inverted 
nature  of  the  procedure  is  apparent ;  and  the  result  is 
.anthropomorphism  in  biology.  We  first  assimilate  the 
animal  mind  to  the  human  mind ;  and  then  we  are  quite 
ready  to  comprehend  the  latter  as  the  outcome  of  the 
former. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  no  complete  knowledge  of  the 
human  mind  can  be  gained  by  a  study  of  the  individual 
consciousness  alone.  This  consciousness  itself  is  evoked 
only  under  social  conditions ;  and  the  individual  is  never  a 
complete  or  perfect  specimen  of  the  race.  To  escape  the 
narrowness  and  one-sidedness  of  individualism  we  need  to 
go  out  into  the  open  field  of  the  world,  —  into  life,  and  his- 
tory, and  literature.  Only  thus  can  we  eliminate  individual 
variations  from  the  type,  and  get  some  conception  of  the 
human  mind  in  general,  as  distinct  fron?  its  imperfect 
specimens. 

In  beginning  our  study  several  roads  open  before  us. 
We  might  recite  the  various  schemes  of  psychological 
classification,  and  select  some  one  as  a  guide  for  our  fur- 
ther study.  Or  we  might  observe  that  consciousness  is  a 
condition  of  all  mental  operations,  and  begin  with  a  general 
discussion  of  the  nature  and  conditions  of  consciousness. 
We  shall  do  better,  however,  to  postpone  these  questions 
and  follow  another  order.  We  begin  with  a  discussion  of 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

the  subject  of  the  mental  life ;  then  we  pass  to  the  impres- 
sions which  that  subject  receives  from  without,  and  with 
which  the  mental  life  begins  ;  and,  finally,  we  consider  the 
complex  action  and  reaction  upon  those  impressions  in 
which  the  developed  mental  life  consists.  And  first  of  all, 
we  discuss  the  subject  and  the  factors  of  the  mental  life, 
leaving  their  combination  for  later  study. 


PART   I. 

THE  FACTORS   OF  THE  MENTAL   LIFE. 


PAUT    I. 

THE  FACTORS   OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LITE. 

IN  all  mental  experience  the  self  appears  as  the  subject 
of  the  mental  state ;  and  the  state  is  referred  to  the  self  as 
its  subject.  There  is  no  such  thing  in  experience  as  pure 
feeling,  or  knowing,  or  willing,  without  a  subject  that  feels, 
or  knows,  or  wills.  Hence  we  may  say  that  the  simplest 
mental  fact  is  at  least  double,  involving  a  mental  state  and 
a  subject  of  which  it  is  a  state.  Thoughts  and  feelings 
apart  from  something  that  thinks  and  feels  are  unreal 
abstractions,  like  motion  apart  from  something  that  moves. 
What  is  this  something  ? 

In  spontaneous  thought  and  consciousness  the  mental 
subject  is  given  as  active  and  abiding ;  and  the  race  has 
constructed  various  names  for  it,  as  mind,  soul,  spirit,  and 
their  equivalents,  to  indicate  its  reality.  The  whole  struc- 
ture o±  thought  and  language  also  implies  it.  This  con- 
ception of  the  mental  subject  we  believe  to  be  correct.  It 
is  disputed,  however,  on  two  general  grounds :  — 

1.  All  mental  states  do  not  involve  a  reference  to  self  as 
their  subject. 

2.  The  self,  or  mental  subject,  is  only  a  compound  pro- 
duct of  mental  states,  and  hence  is  subsequent  to  its  com- 
ponents. 

The  first  objection  properly  refers  to  the  philosophy  of 
self-consciousness.  It  does  not  deny  that  the  mental  acts 


12  PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  states  are  really  acts  and  states  of  a  substantial  mind. 
It  only  questions  whether  they  always  contain  a  conscious 
reference  to  self,  or  involve  self-consciousness.     We  post- 
pone its  consideration,  therefore,  to  a  later  chapter. 
f     The  second  claim,  so  far  as  it  differs  from  the  first, 
\  denies  the  existence  of  any  substantial  mind,  and  regards 
/  the  mind  only  as  a  collective  term  for  the  sum  of  mental 
jfacts.     As  a  rule,  these  mental  facts  are  viewed  as  sensa- 
/tions,  either  simple  or  compounded.    Thoughts  and  feelings 
I  exist ;  but  there  is  properly  nothing  that  thinks  and  feels. 

To  this  claim  the  obvious  objection  is,  that  we  know 
nothing  of  mental  states,  sensational  or  otherwise,  except 
as  affections  of  some  mental  subject  which  has  them. 
Moreover,  we  never  can  know  of  them  apart  from  such 
connection.  Not  in  the  case  of  others ;  for  mental  facts 
can  never  be  seen  from  the  outside.  Not  in  our  own  case  ; 
for  then  they  would  be  known  as  ours.  There  is  strictly 
nothing  in  experience  to  suggest  that  mental  states  can 
exist  by  themselves  like  things ;  on  the  contrary,  expe- 
rience declares  that  there  must  always  be  something  which 
has  them.  The  opposite  view  is  not  based  upon  experience, 
but  is  purely  a  deduction  from  a  speculative  theory,  In 
addition,  thought  breaks  down  in  the  attempt  to  construe 
it.  Mental  states  are  first  broken  from  the  only  con- 
nection in  which  they  have  any  meaning;  and  then  are 
mistaken  for  the  ground  of  their  own  condition. 

Again,  allowing  that  they  may  exist  apart  from  a  sub- 
ject, there  is  no  way  of  accounting  for  the  unity  of  the 
mental  life.  Let  a,  6,  c,  d,  e,  etc.  be  a  set  of  sensations 
without  any  common  subject,  M;  there  is  no  way  of  unit- 
ing them  in  a  common  consciousness.  If  coexistent,  they 
cannot  be  known  as  such  ;  for  no  one  knows  anything  of 
the  others,  each  being  only  a  particular  sensation.  For 
the  same  reason,  they  cannot  be  known  as  sequent.  If 
they  were  the  states  of  a  common  subject,  M,  they  might 


THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  13 

be  grasped  in  a  common  consciousness  and  compared  as 
coexistent  or  sequent,  like  or  unlike  ;  but  otherwise  they 
remain  external  to  one  another  and  without  any  possibility 
of  progress. 

A  concrete  illustration  may  make  this  clearer.  Let, 
then,  a,  #,  c,  and  d  be  respectively  a  sensation  of  color,  of 
odor,  of  taste,  and  of  sound.  Plainly  no  consciousness  can 
be  built  out  of  these  elements.  The  color  knows  nothing 
of  the  odor ;  the  taste  knows  nothing  of  the  sound.  Each 
is  a  particular  and  isolated  unit ;  and  must  remain  so  until 
some  common  subject,  M,  is  given,  in  the  unity  of  whose 
consciousness  these  elements  may  be  united.  For  as  long 
as  a,  b,  c,  etc.  are  all,  there  is  no  common  consciousness, 
and  hence  no  rational  consciousness  at  all.  We  conclude, 
then,  that  the  mental  life,  both  in  its  elements  and  in  its 
combinations,  must  have  a  subject.  It  is  not  only  unintel- 
ligible, it  is  impossible,  without  it. 

Various  devices  exist  for  evading  this  conclusion.  The 
more  uncritical  use  the  language  of  spontaneous  thought 
without  a  suspicion  of  the  inconsistency.  The  less  un- 
critical call  their  data  mental  states,  states  of  conscious- 
ness, etc. ;  and,  by  an  easy  transformation,  states  of 
consciousness  become  a  consciousness  of  states.  Affections 
of  consciousness  also  are  largely  spoken  of,  and  conscious- 
ness itself  is  proposed  as  a  substitute  for  the  soul.  Thus 
consciousness  is  hypostasized  into  something  above  its 
alleged  elements,  and  plays  essentially  the  part  of  an  active 
and  rational  subject.  How  there  can  be  states  which  are 
states  of  nothing,  and  how  consciousness,  which  is  itself  a 
mental  state,  can  also  have  states,  are  questions  passed 
over  in  profound  silence. 

It  is  instructive  to  note,  in  the  writings  of  those  who 
reduce  the  self  to  states  of  consciousness,  how  the  abiding 
element  maintains  itself  under  some  figure  of  speech.  Thus 
Hume,  in  the  chapter  on  personal  identity,  while  reducing 


14  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  mind,  or  selfj  to  a  set  of  dissolving  views,  also  speaks 
of  the  mind  as  the  "  theatre  "  in  which  all  this  takes  place. 
The  reader  kindly  consents  to  play  the  "  spectator  "  ;  and 
thus  by  means  of  two  figures  of  speech  a  philosophical 
doctrine  is  firmly  established.  A  more  common  device  is 
to  speak  of  the  mind  as  a  "  series  " ;  and  as  we  posit  the 
series  as  self-identical  in  our  thought,  there  is  plainly  a 
constant  element,  —  the  series  •  itself.  Or  we  are  told  of 
"  the  property  of  consciousness  to  know  itself  as  the  same 
in  all  the  changes  of  its  states."  Here  consciousness  itself 
appears  as  an  abiding  subject,  which  distinguishes  itself 
from  its  states  and  knows  itself  as  the  same.  From  such  a 
game  of  hide  and  seek,  progress  unspeakable  cannot  fail 
to  result. 

The  reasons  for  this  procedure  are  various.  There  is 
often  a  profound  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  mental  facts. 
More  frequently  there  is  a  preconceived  theory  of  what 
mental  facts  must  be ;  and  of  course  the  facts  must  be 
made  to  fit  the  theory.  This  is  often  the  case  when  psy- 
chology is  approached  from  the  physiological  side.  The 
facts  are  distorted  and  falsified  from  the  start,  in  order  to 
adjust  them  to  a  predestined  explanation.  That  such  a 
method  must  lead  to  error,  or  nonsense,  or  both;  is  self- 
evident. 

This  inverted  procedure  has  been  so  common  in  psy- 
chology, and  has  wrought  so  much  mischief  withal,  that  a 
word  or  two  of  commonplace  upon  method  in  general  may 
be  allowed.  First,  we  are  never  permitted  to  make  our 
facts,  but  only  to  construe  them.  Yet  in  the  face  of  this 
simplest  rule  of  method,  a  large  part  of  psychological  study 
has  been  directed,  not  to  explaining  facts,  but  to  explaining 
them  away.  Second,  facts  must  always  be  taken  as  they  are 
given,  unless  some  reason  be  found  in  the  facts  themselves 
for  modifying  our  conception ;  and  in  that  case,  also,  the 
facts  as  given  must  furnish  the  starting-point.  .  In  the 


THE   SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  15 

objective  sciences  this  is  well  understood  nowadays ;  but 
in  psychology  it  still  needs  to  be  emphasized.  The  science 
has  been  overrun  and  devastated  by  theorists,  who  had 
already  decided  what  the  facts  must  be ;  and  by  baptizing 
their  arbitrary  dogmatism  science,  they  have  won  not  a 
little  glory.  They  have  their  reward. 

To  apply  these  considerations  to  the  matter  in  hand.  It 
is  plain,  that,  if  the  mental  subject  be  given  as  real  and 
abiding,  and  as  an  integral  element  of  consciousness,  an 
element  without  which  a  rational  consciousness  is  demon- 
strably  impossible,  then  that  subject  is  to  be  admitted  as  a 
fact  until  some  other  facts  are  discovered  which  make  such 
admission  impossible.  The  fact  may  be  called  metaphysi- 
cal, or  supersensible,  or  metempirical,  or  whatever  else 
we  may  think  disagreeable ;  nevertheless,  we  are  bound  in 
good  faith  to  recognize  it  as  a  fact.  The  mind  as  it  is  must 
be  the  foundation  of  psychology,  not  the  mind  as  we  think 
it  ought  to  be,  nor  even  the  mind  as  the  Zeitgeist  has 
decided  it  must  be. 

We  have,  then,  a  logical  right  to  assume  the  reality  of 
the  mind,  and  to  proceed  to  study  its  phenomena  upon  this 
assumption,  with  the  proviso,  of  course,  that,  if  any  facts 
are  found  which  shall  conflict  with  this  assumption,  we 
shall  modify  it  accordingly.  However,  the  reality  of  the 
mental  subject  is  so  stoutly  disputed  by  materialism  on  the 
basis  of  unquestionable  facts,  that  we  shall  perhaps  do 
better  to  consider  this  claim  somewhat  at  length  before 
going  further. 

By  materialism  is  meant  the  doctrine  that  the  mental 
subject  is  nothing  substantial,  and  that  mental  facts  are 
produced  by  the  physical  organism.  This  view  rests  upon 
the  fact  that  the  mental  life  is  plainly  conditioned  by  the 
organism,  and  that  we  know  nothing  of  mind  apart  from  a 
body.  The  physical  and  the  mental  life  appear  together, 
advance  together,  fail  together,  and  disappear  together. 


16  PSYCHOLOGY. 

An  exclusive  acquaintance  with  such  facts,  unbalanced  by 
an  exact  knowledge  of  mental  facts,  leads  very  naturally  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  mental  life  is  only  a  function  of  the 
organism.  The  organism,  in  turn,  is  only  a  special  mate- 
rial aggregate.  In  ancient  materialism  the  soul  was  re- 
garded as  real,  but  material ;  in  modern  times,  materialism 
has  come  to  mean  the  denial  of  a  substantial  soul,  and  the 
reference  of  all  mental  activities  to  the  physical  organism. 

At  first  sight  this  doctrine  appears  perfectly  clear,  but  in 
fact  it  is  rather  confused.  A  common  way  of  conceiving  it 
is  based  upon  the  conception  of  organs  and  their  func- 
tions. The  function  of  the  stomach  is  to  digest ;  that  of  the 
glands  is  to  secrete;  and  that  of  the  brain  is  to  feel,  think, 
and  will.  For  a  long  time  a  favorite  formula  was  that  the 
brain  secretes  thought,  as  the  liver  secretes  bile.  Of  course 
the  brain  has  other  than  mental  functions  ;  but  among  its 
various  functions  are  those  of  thinking,  feeling,  and 
willing. 

Such  attempts  to  express  the  doctrine  only  destroy  its 
tenability.  They  overlook  the  fact  that  the  functions  and 
products  of  all  other  organs  are  physical  and  material. 
Thus  the  secretory  organs  either  eliminate  their  products 
from  the  blood,  or  make  them  out  of  matter  taken  from  the 
blood.  If  now  we  are  to  regard  thought  as  a  secretion,  it 
would  follow  that  thoughts  either  exist  in  the  blood  or  are 
made  out  of  blood.  In  either  case  they  might  be  collected 
and  looked  at,  just  as  we  collect  and  look  at  bile.  But 
thought  itself  is  immaterial.  If  we  admit  that  its  cause  is 
material,  we  have  still  to  affirm  that  thought  itself  is  noth- 
ing material. 

Again,  it  is  said,  with  somewhat  less  of  definiteness,  that 
the  brain  produces  thought ;  but  the  sense  of  this  produc- 
tion is  left  unclear.  Now  all  production  in  the  physical 
realm  consists,  not  in  making  something  else,  but  in  pro- 
ducing new  movements  and  groupings  of  matter.  The 


THE   SUBJECT    OF   THE   MENTAL   LIFE.  17 

change  of  motion  and  the  new  grouping  are  the  effect.  If 
now  the  production  of  thought  is  to  be  assimilated  to  physi- 
cal production,  we  should  have  to  say  that  a  certain 
material  grouping  is  a  thought.  As  n  atoms  grouped  and 
moving  in  a  certain  way  do  not  produce,  but  are,  a  chemical 
molecule,  so  m  atoms  grouped  and  moving  in  a  peculiar 
way  do  not  produce,  but  are,  a  thought.  As  in  the  preced- 
ing case,  such  thoughts  might  conceivably  be  collected  and 
looked  at ;  and  essentially  the  same  absurdity  reappears. 

Once  more,  thought  has  been  called  a  movement  of  mat- 
ter ;  and,  as  motion  is  immaterial,  this  view  seems  less 
gross  than  those  preceding.  But  motion  is  always  the 
motion  of  something  from  one  point  to  another,  or  along  a 
certain  path,  with  a  certain  velocity.  Hence  this  view  must 
read  :  The  motion  of  M  from  A  to  B  with  velocity  Vis  a. 
thought,  say  a  conception  in  physics  or  in  political  economy. 
But  the  more  clearly  we  conceive  the  subject  the  more  im- 
possible we  find  it  to  connect  it  with  the  predicate.  As  well 
might  we  call  the  following  line,  -  — ,  an  aspiration, 
or  a  profound  reflection,  or  a  flash  of  insight. 

These  attempts  to  illustrate  the  doctrine  only  serve  to 
make  more  clear  the  difference  between  physical  and  men- 
tal facts.  All  that  is  left  is  the  claim  that  in  some  obscure 
way  the  mental  life  is  the  outcome  of  the  physical  organ- 
ism. This  doctrine  we  propose  to  examine.  Throughout 
the  argument  matter  will  be  conceived  as  atomically  dis- 
crete, as  that  is  the  only  conception  admitted  in  physical 
science. 

Materialism  rejects  the  reality  of  the  mental  subject  as 
apparently  given  in  consciousness  and  as  assumed  by  spon- 
taneous thought,  because  the  mental  life  is  found  to  be  pro- 
foundly dependent  upon  the  organism,  and  more  especially 
upon  the  brain  and  nervous  system.  But  such  dependence 
is  ambiguous,  and  may  be  explained  by  either  of  two 
hypotheses  :  — 

2 


18  PSYCHOLOGY. 

1.  We  may  suppose  that  the  organism  produces  the  men- 
tal facts.     This  would  explain  the  observed  dependence. 

2.  We  may  suppose  that  the  mind  is  distinct  from  the 
organism,  but  is  conditioned  in  its  activities  by  the  organ- 
ism.    This  also  would  explain  the  observed  dependence. 

The  decision  between  these  views  can  be  reached  only  by 
studying  all  the  facts  of  the  mental  life.  If  we  find  that 
one  better  explains  and  expresses  the  facts  than  the  other, 
the  decision  must  be  in  favor  of  that  one.  But  before  pro- 
ceeding, it  may  be  well  to  emphasize  the  ambiguity  of  the 
facts  in  question.  For  the  most  decided  spiritualist,  the 
body  is  the  means  for  educing  and  inciting  the  mental  life, 
and  for  putting  the  mind  in  connection  with  the  outer 
world.  Hence  the  mental  state  must  be  affected  by  the 
physical.  Jf  the  nerves  be  disordered,  they  can  only  lead 
to  disturbed  mental  action.  An  immature  organism  would 
not  furnish  the  mind  with  the  stimulus  for  a  mature  mental 
life.  Again,  as  we  know  of  other  minds  only  through  the 
organism,  it  follows  that  the  disappearance  of  the  latter 
would  end  all  manifestation  of  the  former. 

It  is  the  illogical  imagination  which  finds  in  the  facts  of 
mental  dependence  upon  the  organism  a  sure  proof  of 
materialism.  Common  facts  illustrative  of  the  dependence 
of  the  mind  upon  the  body,  such  as  the  influence  of  stimu- 
lants, the  need  of  sleep,  the  depressing  effect  of  familiar 
diseases,  etc.,  do  not  affect  us.  But  uncommon  facts,  as 
some  occult  discovery  in  brain  physiology,  or  the  influence 
of  some  new  drug,  these  have  profound  significance.  Yet, 
logically,  the  influence  of  a  cup  of  coffee  has  as  much  sig- 
nificance as  the  newest  fact  of  the  hospital  or  laboratory. 
All  alike  are  but  specifications  of  the  fact,  known  and  con- 
fessed by  all,  that  the  mind  is  conditioned  by  the  nature  and 
state  of  the  body.  If  these  facts  were  all,  the  result  would 
be  a  drawn  battle.  But  there  are  certain  capital  facts  of  the 
mental  life  which  make  materialism  an  untenable  theory. 


THE   SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  19 

The  first  great  difficulty  which  materialism  meets  is  the 
complete  unlikeness  of  physical  and  mental  facts.  Body 
has  form,  position,  solidity.  Thoughts  and  feelings  have 
none  of  these.  The  attributes  of  one  cannot  be  ascribed 
to  the  other  without  absurdity.  If  we  pass  below  visible 
body  to  the  component  elements,  we  come  no  nearer  to 
thought,  so  long  as  we  retain  only  the  conceptions  of  mat- 
ter which  appear  in  physical  science.  The  phenomena  of 
matter  as  conceived  by  the  physicist  consist  entirely  in 
aggregation  and  movement ;  and  the  forces  of  matter  are 
without  exception  moving  forces,  that  is,  their  effect  con- 
sists entirely  in  modifying  the  movement,  position,  and 
aggregation  of  the  elements.  But  it  is  a  simple  matter  of 
definition,  that  the  elements,  as  thus  conceived,  will  never 
explain  thought,  unless  we  assume  that  a  given  grouping 
is  thought,  which  is  absurd.  All  that  our  system  provides 
for  us  is  aggregation  and  movement ;  and  no  reflection  on 
changes  of  motion  and  grouping  will  ever  bring  us  to  a 
point  where  we  shall  see  that  the  next  step  must  be  a 
thought  or  feeling,  something  wholly  incommensurable 
with  either  or  both.  "We  can  conceive  that  such  a  system 
of  elements  might  be  so  connected  with  a  mental  subject 
that  their  changes  should  be  the  ground  for  a  thought  or 
feeling  arising  in  that  subject ;  but  otherwise  we  begin  and 
end  with  the  elements  variously  grouped  and  moving.  A 
false  conception  of  physical  causation  often  misleads  us 
here.  We  fancy  that  the  elements  may  cause  something 
apart  from  themselves,  but  in  sound  science  all  physical 
effects  consist  in  some  change  of  physical  states  re- 
sulting in  some  change  of  position,  aggregation,  and 
movement. 

An  apparent  exception  to  this  view  is  found  in  the  facts 
of  sound,  light,  etc.  In  these  cases  the  elements  produce 
effects  unlike  themselves.  The  sound  is  unlike  the  instru- 
ment ;  the  light  is  unlike  the  vibrating  ether. 


20  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  exception  is  only  apparent.  The  vibrating  instru- 
ment produces  a  vibrating  atmosphere,  which  produces  a 
vibrating  nerve.  So  long  as  we  remain  in  the  physical 
realm,  we  have  only  movement,  nor  can  any  one  pretend 
that  in  this  realm  a  vibration  must  at  last  be-  reached  which 
will  have  for  its  consequent,  not  a  vibration,  but  a  sound. 
The  same  applies  to  light.  The  exception  is  based  on  an 
ambiguity  of  the  terms.  The  instrument  does  not  produce 
sound  in  the  psychological  sense,  but  only  vibration.  The 
vibrating  ether  does  not  produce  light  in  the  visual  sense, 
but  propagates  vibrations.  And  as  long  as  we  remain  in 
the  physical  realm,  with  only  physical  conceptions,  nothing 
more  is  possible. 

A  second  objection  to  this  claim  has  been  based  on  the 
transformation  of  energy.  This  doctrine  was  supposed  to 
teach  that  all  material  forces  may  pass  into  one  another,  or 
rather  that  there  is  but  one  force  which  manifests  itself 
under  various  forms.  From  this  it  was  concluded  that 
physical  energy  may  become  mental  energy,  and  conversely. 
This  was  pure  mistake.  The  forces  of  matter  are  neither 
correlated  nor  transformed.  Each  of  these  remains  as  dis- 
tinct and  separate  as  ever.  The  doctrine  applies  only  to 
the  energies  of  matter,  and  these  are  nothing  independent 
of  the  elements,  but  only  their  power  of  doing  work,  that 
is,  their  power  to  produce  changes  in  material  movements 
and  aggregates.  In  whatever  form  they  appear,  they  have 
this  common  quality,  that  they  are  expressed  in  some  form 
of  movement  or  aggregation. 

So  long  as  we  employ  only  those  conceptions  of  matter 
and  force  which  suffice  for  physical  science,  it  is  strictly 
impossible  to  bring  thought  within  the  chain  of  physical 
cause  and  effect.  It  rather  remains  outside  of  it  and  in- 
commensurable with  it.  So  much  may  be  received  as  uni- 
versally allowed.  Matter  as  the  movable  explains  only 
motion  and  aggregation.  But  may  it  not  be  that  we  have 


THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  21 

thought  too  meanly  of  matter  ?  If  we  allow  that  the  phys- 
ical properties  of  the  elements  will  not  explain  the  mental 
life,  why  need  we  go  outside  of  the  elements  for  a  special 
ground  ?  Why  not  rather  posit  in  the  elements,  along  with 
the  physical  properties,  another  set  of  mental  properties, 
different  indeed  from  the  others,  yet  belonging  to  the  same 
subject  ?  In  certain  relations  matter  manifests  gravity  ; 
in  certain  others,  affinity ;  in  still  others,  magnetism ;  and 
finally,  in  others  it  manifests  vital  and  mental  properties. 

Traces  of  this  view  are  found  throughout  speculation. 
It  first  appears  in  the  hylozoism  of  the  Greeks,  and  may 
be  called  hylozoistic  materialism.  Modern  materialists 
generally  resort  to  it,  and  call  for  "  new  definitions  of 
matter."  There  are  many  differences  of  detail  among 
those  who  hold  it,  but  all  agree  in  assuming  some  mystic 
principle  in  matter  which  is  the  ground  of  its  vital  and 
mental  manifestations.  Some  regard  mentality  as  co- 
existent with  all  materiality,  and  propose  to  endow  every 
atom  with  a  kind  of  soul  life,  and  to  found  even  attraction 
on  a  kind  of  sentiency.  Others  allow  the  mystic  attribute 
to  play  a  part  only  in  connection  with  the  organism  ;  else- 
where it  has  no  significance.  Some,  as  Hobbes,  would 
endow  the  elements  with  "  actual  sense  and  perception," 
though  lacking  "  the  organs  and  memory  of  animals  to 
express  their  sensations."  Others  would  attribute  to  them 
only  a  confused  sentiency,  which  in  some  peculiar  way 
develops  under  favorable  conditions  into  our  conscious 
mental  life.  In  fact,  the  theory  has  never  been  thought 
out  into  definiteness,  but  has  existed  as  a  vague  conception 
of  an  indefinite  possibility,  upon  which  materialism  might 
draw  whenever  it  got  into  speculative  straits.  There  is 
only  the  general  conception  that  matter  is  more  and  better 
than  we  have  been  used  to  thinking.  It  is  a  double-faced 
substance,  has  an  inner  side,  a  subjective  aspect,' and  is 
essentially  something  mystic  and  transcendental. 


22  PSYCHOLOGY. 

At  first  sight  this  view  seems  promising.  It  appears  to 
overcome  the  opposition  between  materiality  and  mentality, 
at  least  to  some  extent.  Instead  of  leaving  them  glaring 
at  each  other  across  an  impassable  gulf,  it  unites  them  as 
opposite  manifestations  of  the  same  thing.  But,  first  of  all, 
let  us  try  to  understand  the  doctrine. 

It  is  clear,  to  begin  with,  that  this  view  is  a  distinct 
abandonment  of  the  vulgar  forms  of  materialism.  There 
is  no  possibility  of  deducing  mental  facts  from  any  physical 
facts  and  processes  whatever.  Matter,  as  we  know  it  in 
physical  science,  is  forever  inadequate  to  the  explanation 
of  the  lowest  forms  of  sensation  ;  but  matter,  as  we  do  not 
know  it,  accounts  for  the  mental  life.  Its  physical  proper- 
ties explain  only  physics ;  its  mystical  properties  explain 
life  and  mind.  Moreover,  it  is  as  impossible  to  bring  phys- 
ical and  mental  facts  into  linear  order  on  this  view  as  it  is 
on  the  spiritual  theory.  Each  set  of  facts  remains  external 
to  the  other  in  both  cases :  but  in  the  former  we  seem  to 
secure  a  certain  unity  in  our  theory  of  things  by  attributing 
these  incommensurable  properties  to  the  same  subjects, 
instead  of  to  two  incommensurable  classes  of  subjects, 
mind  and  matter. 

In  order  to  make  the  doctrine  perfectly  clear  in  its  mean- 
ing, one  or  two  other  points  have  to  be  cleared  up: 

1.  What  are  its  relations  to  established  physical  science? 

2.  What  is  the  relation  of  the  physical  and  the  mental 
facts  in  this  theory? 

As  to  the  first  point,  physical  science  is  built  upon  the 
denial  of  the  hylozoistic  conception  of  matter.  Hylozoism 
for  ages  prevented  the  birth  of  physics,  and  a  return  to 
hylozoism  would  be  its  death.  Physical  science  is  built 
upon  the  sharp  mechanical  notions  of  inertia,  momentum, 
velocity,  mass,  energy,  etc.  By  the  mental  travail  of 
centuries  it  has  wrought  these  notions  out ;  and  all 
its  successes  have  been  due  to  them.  Physics,  there- 


THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  23 

fore,  had  rather  let  other  realms  alone,  than  by  annexing 
them  to  destroy  the  clearness  and  sharpness  of  its  own 
conceptions.  Where  these  conceptions  apply,*  hylozoism 
is  excluded. 

This  point  deserves  attention,  as  materialism  has  won 
considerable  prestige  from  the  mistaken  fancy  that  it  builds 
upon  physics  as  its  chief  corner  stone.  In  fact,  however, 
the  more  faithful  we  are  to  physical  conceptions,  and  the 
more  clearly  we  grasp  them  in  thought,  the  plainer  becomes 
the  impossibility  of  reaching  the  mental  life.  Physics 
needs  no  new  definitions  of  matter.  Materialism  insists 
upon  a  new  definition  of  matter. 

The  second  point  concerns  the  relation  of  physical  and 
mental  facts.  We  may  call  the  changes  of  position,  group- 
ing and  movement,  the  physical  series,  and  the  changes  of 
thought,  feeling,  etc.,  the  mental  series.  How  does  this 
doctrine  conceive  their  relation  ? 

This  point  has  seldom  been  thought  out.  Several  con- 
ceptions are  possible. 

1.  The  two  series  may  be  conceived  as  mutually  inde- 
pendent, the  physical  series  going  along  by  itself,  and  the 
mental  series  by  itself.     But  in  that  case  we  should  simply 
have  elements  acting  in  two  incommensurable  ways,  neither 
of  which  would  have  any  significance  for  the  other.     In 
that  case  the  mental  series  would  be  self-contained  and 
independent  so  far  as  the   physical  series  is  concerned. 
Nothing  that  happens  in  the  latter  would  be  any  ground 
for  the  movements  of  the  former.     The  outcome  would  be 
idealism. 

2.  A  rhetorical  misunderstanding  of  the  doctrine  of  cor- 
relation and   conservation  of  energy   has   led   to  another 
view,  in  which  both  the  physical  and  the  mental  series 
are  mutually  convertible  expressions  of  a  common  energy. 
Why  the  one  energy  should  have  these  antithetic  forms ; 
in  what  way  one  conditions  the  other ;  whether  one  form 


24  PSYCHOLOGY. 

might  pass  entirely  into  the  other,  so  that  all  the  energy 
of  the  system  might  become  mental  energy ;  whether  phys- 
ical energy  disappears  entirely  from  the  physical  system 
and  vanishes  into  the  mental  realm ;  and  whether  there  are 
irruptions  of  mental  energy  into  the  physical  system,  so  as 
to  produce  a  series  of  faults  in  both  systems; — these  are 
questions  to  which  there  is  no  answer.  But  a  rhetorical 
misunderstanding  calk  for  no  elaborate  criticism. 

3.  The  desire  to  maintain  the  continuity  and  indepen- 
dence of  the  physical  series  has  led  to  another  conception, 
as  follows.  Each  physical  antecedent  is  expended  in  pro- 
ducing its  physical  consequent,  and  each  consequent  is 
fully  explained  by  its  antecedent.  The  physical  series 
goes  along  by  itself,  receiving  no  modifications  from  with- 
out, and  expending  no  energy  except  to  produce  new  move- 
ments and  groupings  of  matter,  which  effects  in  turn 
become  causes,  and  produce  other  movements  and  group- 
ings. The  mental  series  is  not  caused  by  this  series  in  a 
physical  sense,  but  only  attends  it  as  a  shadow  attends  its 
substance.  Like  a  shadow,  it  costs  nothing  and  determines 
nothing.  Life  and  history  are  pure  automatism.  Thought 
attends  nervous  action,  but  does  not  affect  it.  Why  it 
should  do  so,  we  cannot  tell.  Why  it  should  attend  one 
form  of  nervous  action  rather  than  another,  is  equally  un- 
known. We  must  either  refer  it  to  magic,  or  else  affirm 
some  obscure  harmony  between  specific  forms  of  nervous 
action  and  the  thoughts  which  are  said  to  attend  as  their 
inner  "  face  "  or  otherwise.  In  fact,  those  who  have  held  this 
view  have  never  been  careful  to  think  out  its  applications. 
Sometimes,  in  sheer  forgetfulness,  the  mental  series  is  called 
an  aspect  or  phenomenon  of  the  physical  series.  We  have 
seen  that  the  mental  series  is  never  phenomenal  to  any  one 
but  its  subject ;  and  where  there  is  no  subject  there  are  no 
"  aspects  "  and  no  "  phenomena."  Suppose  n  atoms  turn 
in  a  left-hand  spiral,  love  is  an  aspect  of  this  fact.  But  for 


.    THE   SUBJECT   OF   THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  25 

whom  ?  For  the  atoms  ?  If  so,  for  all  or  for  each  ?  If 
not  for  the  atoms,  for  what  or  whom  ?  For  the  motion 
itself,  perhaps  ! 

4.  In  order  to  leave  no  unintelligibility  untried,  some 
have  claimed  that  the  two  series  are  identical.  The  thing- 
series  considered  subjectively  is  the  thought-series ;  and 
the  thought-series  considered  objectively  is  the  thing-series. 
So  far  as  this  is  intelligible,  it  is  absurd.  The  thing-series 
is  a  set  of  moving  molecules ;  the  thought-series  is  a  group 
of  mental  states.  That  one  should  cause  the  other,  is  an 
intelligible  proposition ;  that  one  is  the  other,  is  meaning- 
less. Moreover,  this  theory  implies  mind  as  the  condition 
of  its  own  existence;  for  the  two  ways  of  looking  at  the 
same  fact  seem  to  be  founded,  not  in  the  reality,  but  in  the 
mind  which  grasps  it.  How  there  can  be  two  points  of 
view  is  an  important  question  for  this  theory,  but  as  yet  it 
has  not  been  answered. 

So  far  we  have  only  sought  to  understand  hylozoistic 
materialism.  We  have  now  to  show  that  no  interaction  of 
a  plurality  of  elements,  no  matter  how  mysterious  or  two- 
sided  they  may  be,  can  explain  the  mental  life  without 
assuming  a  unitary  subject  of  that  life.  The  chief  difficul- 
ties are  these :  — 

1.  Thoughts  and  feelings  demand  a  subject,  and  have  no 
meaning  apart  from  it.  Materialism,  in  alliance  with  sen- 
sationalism, has  generally  falsified  experience  at  the  start, 
by  assuming  that  they  may  exist  without  a  subject,  and  it 
derives  most  of  its  probability  therefrom.  If  it  were  clearly 
seen  that  thoughts  and  feelings  imply  something  that  thinks 
and  feels,  materialism  would  seldom  begin.  If  the  mate- 
rialist saw  that  he  must  explain,  not  only  the  occurrence  of 
mental  states,  but  also  the  existence  of  a  mental  subject, 
his  task  would  seem  more  formidable.  But  we  have  seen 
that  the  mental  subject  is  a  precondition  of  the  mental 
state.  What,  then,  thinks  and  feels  in  my  thinking  and 


26  PSYCHOLOGY. 

feeling  ?  We  cannot  say  that  the  brain  does ;  for  (1.)  while 
the  brain  may  produce  the  thought,  there  is  no  ground  for 
saying  that  it  thinks  the  thought ;  and  (2.)  in  any  case  the 
brain  is  an  aggregate,  and  as  such  has  its  reality  only  in 
the  elements  which  compose  it.  Apart  from  these  it  is 
nothing.  Hence,  to  say  that  the  brain  thinks  and  feels, 
can  only  mean  that  the  component  elements  think. and  feel. 
But  which  ?  All,  or  some,  or  only  one  ?  If  only  one,  the 
unity  and  reality  of  the  mental  subject  is  admitted.  If  all 
or  many  think,  what  is  the  relation  of  their  thoughts  to 
mine  ?  If  they  all  think  my  complete  thought,  my  thought 
is  not  explained  unless  I  identify  myself  with  some  one  of 
the  elements  ;  and  then  all  the  reduplications  of  myself  in 
the  other  elements  are  superfluous.  We  may  say  that  my 
thoughts  are  not  in  the  elements  at  all,  but  result  from 
their  interaction  as  a  function,  or  resultant,  of  the  whole  ; 
but  this  view  is  untenable  for  the  following  reasons. 

Suppose  n  elements,  a,  J,  c,  d,  etc.,  endowed  with  sundry 
mystic  possibilities,  and  entering  into  a  highly  complex  in- 
teraction. As  a  consequence  thereof,  they  may  all  enter 
into  the  same  inner  state,  TW,  or  into  a  series  of  states, 
m,  n,  o,  r,  etc.,  different  for  each.  These  inner  states, 
owing  to  the  mysterious  double-facedness  of  the  elements, 
may  be  considered  as  of  a  mental  nature.  The  only  pos- 
sible outcome  of  the  elements'  interaction  is  a  modification 
of  their  space-relations  and  the  production  of  these  inner 
states.  But  each  of  these  states  is  inseparable  from  its 
own  subject.  There  is  no  way  whereby  m,  n,  o,  r,  etc.  may 
leave  their  respective  subjects,  and  congregate  in  the  void 
to  form  a  compound  mental  state  which  I  call  mine.  Such 
a  notion  would  be  like  that  of  a  series  of  motions  which 
should  break  loose  from  their  subjects  and  compound  them- 
selves in  the  void  to  form  a  new  motion  which  should  be 
the  motion  of  nothing.  Hence  the  mental  states  of  the 
elements  must  be  subjective  to  the  elements  themselves,  in 


THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL   LIFE.  27 

which  case  my  mental  states  are  not  explained  unless  I  am 
identified  with  some  one  of  the  elements.  But  I  cannot 
be  identified  with  any  element  without  thereby  removing  it 
from  the  physical  series  ;  for  that  element  is  known  only 
as  having  mental  qualities,  and  is  not  known  as  having  any 
physical  qualities  whatever.  Whereas,  too,  all  the  others 
are  in  a  state  of  constant  change,  that  element  is  given  as 
fixed  and  abiding.  But  if  my  mental  states  are  not  sub- 
jective to  any  one  or  all  of  the  elements,  then  outside  of 
a,  5,  c,  d,  etc.  there  must  be  another  element,  M,  in  such 
interaction  with  a,  5,  c,  c?,  etc.  that  they  furnish  it  with  the 
condition  of  developing  mental  states  within  itself.  That 
M  is  myself. 

2.  A  rational  life  by  its  very  nature  demands  a  unitary 
consciousness  and  a  unitary  subject.  For  even  admitting 
that  a  series  of  states  of  consciousness  is  possible  without  a 
subject,  we  have  made  no  progress  toward  a  rational  life. 
In  that  case,  «,  5,  <?,  d,  etc.  are  discrete  units  of  feeling,  and 
can  never  constitute  a  single  consciousness.  We  repeat 
the  argument  already  given. 

Suppose  a  is  a  sensation  of  color,  b  one  of  sound,  c  is  a 
pain,  d  is  an  odor,  etc.  Each  is  an  isolated  existence,  and 
is  unable  to  advance  beyond  itself.  A  consciousness  com- 
posed of  such  elements  would  be  no  consciousness  at  all. 
These  states  of  consciousness  must  in  some  way  be  turned 
into  a  consciousness  of  states.  But  this  latter  conscious- 
ness cannot  be  attributed  to  any  member  of  the  series 
without  violating  the  primary  agreement,  which  was  that 
each  member  is  only  a  particular  mental  state.  If  a,  in 
addition  to  being  a  state  of  consciousness,  is  conscious  of 
5,  c,  d,  etc.,  and  is  able  to  discern  their  nature  and  rela- 
tions, it  has  all  the  functions  of  mind  attributed  to  it.  Yet, 
plainly,  if  there  is  to  be  a  consciousness  of  coexistence  or 
of  sequence,  of  likeness  or  unlikeness,  of  unity  and  plural- 
ity, there  must  be  a  consciousness  which,  instead  of  being 


28  PSYCHOLOGY. 

a  state  of  consciousness,  is  a  consciousness  of  states.  But 
this  is  not  provided  for  by  the  coexistence  and  sequence  of 
the  states,  but  only  by  some  unitary  subject,  which,  standing 
over  against  the  states,  grasps  them  all  in  the  unity  of  a 
single  apprehension.  Before  a,  5,  c,  d,  etc.  can  become 
elements  of  a  rational  life,  M  must  be  given. 

3.  Again,  thought  by  its  very  nature  must  have  a  single 
subject.     To  think  is  to  compare,  to  distinguish,  to  unite. 
But  in  order  to  any  of  these  operations,  one  and  the  same 
conscious  subject  must  grasp  in  the  unity  of  a  single  act 
the  things  compared,  distinguished,  united.   If  M  conceives 
a,  and  iVconceives  J,  no  relation  can  be  established  between 
a  and  b.     The  same  M  must  grasp  both  a  and  b  in  one  con- 
sciousness before  thought  can  begin.    All  reasoning  has 
the  implication.    Unless  the  same  subject  grasp  both  prem- 
ises in  a  single  conscious  act,  there  can  be  no  conclusion. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  consciousness  of  plurality.     The 
knowledge  of  the  many  is  possible  only  through  the  unity 
of  the  one.     Hence  not  merely  the  consciousness  of  self 
as  one  reveals  the  unity  of  self,  but  much  more  does  con- 
sciousness of  the  many  compel  the  same  assumption. 

4.  The   same  conclusion  is  compelled  by  the   facts  of 
memory.     What  remembers  ?    The  spiritualist  says,  The 
soul  remembers ;  it  abides  across  the  years  and  the  flow 
of  the  body,  and  gathering  up  its  past  carries  it  with  it. 
The  materialist  must  explain  the  fact.     We   cannot  say 
that  the  brain  remembers,  for  the  same  reason  that  we 
cannot  say  that  the  brain  thinks.    The  elements  remember, 
then,  but  how  ?    Those  which  had  the  experience  are  gone, 
and  yet  the  new-comers  know  all  about  it.    The  original 
elements,  a,  b,  c,  d,  contributed  nothing  to  Z,  ?w,  w,  r,  the 
present  elements ;  and  yet  Z,  m,  w,  r,  know  what  happened 
to  a,  6,  c,  d.     The  materialist  can  only  say  that  memory 
depends  on  the  form  of  nervous  action,  rather  than  on  the 
identity  of  the  component  elements.     But  in  that  case  we 


THE   SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  29 

are  left  without  any  subject  for  the  memory,  and  memory 
loses  all  relations  to  time.  An  organism  made  at  first  hand 
from  the  inorganic  would  have  just  the  same  mental  life 
as  another  of  the  same  structure  which  might  have  lived  in 
the  past.  The  former  would  have  the  same  memories, 
beliefs,  doubts,  and  expectations  as  the  latter,  and  would 
be  equally  at  home  in  every  relation.  But  in  that  case 
memory  would  only  be  a  present  outcome  of  a  special  form 
of  nervous  action,  and  would  lose  all  reference  to  time. 
And  with  all  this  heroic  treatment,  the  facts  would  still  be 
unmet.  Reasoning  similar  to  that  already  employed  would 
show  that  memory  demands  a  unitary  mental  subject. 
Memory  involves  a  consciousness  of  temporal  relations 
between  certain  elements  of  experience ;  and  this  con- 
sciousness falls  asunder  without  the  unity  and  identity 
of  the  subject. 

Materialism  in  its  hylozoistic  form  succeeds  no  better 
than  in  its  vulgar  form  in  explaining  the  facts  of  the  men- 
tal life.  There  are  certain  great  capital  mental  facts  which 
cannot  be  explained  as  the  outcome  of  any  aggregate  of 
physical  elements,  no  matter  how  mysterious,  as  long  as  a 
special  mental  subject  is  denied.  Hylozoism  merely  con- 
fuses two  realms,  and  loses  the  advantages  of  both.  On  the 
one  hand,  it  offers  a  conception  of  matter  from  which  physi- 
cal science  has  steadily  grown  away,  and  which  absolutely 
nothing  in  experience  justifies.  On  the  other  hand,  it  can 
make  no  use  of  the  assumed  mystic  properties  in  explaining 
our  mental  life.  They  would  be  mischievous  in  physics  if 
allowed  to  influence  our  conceptions ;  and  they  are  abso- 
lutely worthless  in  psychology.  They  must  be  ruled  out, 
therefore,  from'both  sciences. 

Materialism  fails  to  explain  the  simplest  facts  of  con- 
sciousness. On  the  other  hand,  spiritualism  fits  into  the 
facts  so  well  that  to  spontaneous  thought  it  seems  to  be  a 
direct  utterance  of  consciousness  itself.  In  addition  to  the 


30  PSYCHOLOGY. 

previous  considerations,  certain  implications  of  materialism 
are  to  be  considered ;  first,  in  its  bearing  on  action,  and 
second,  in  its  bearing  on  our  trust  in  knowledge.  If  these 
prove  absurd  or  inadmissible,  then  the  theory  is  doubly 
untenable. 

First,  as  to  the  bearing  of  materialism  on  action.  For 
materialism  the  organism  is  all,  and  all  physical  movements 
are  physically  determined.  These  movements  are  accom- 
panied by  thoughts  and  feelings,  but  the  latter  are  never 
causal.  They  are  the  mental  equivalent,  or  representative, 
of  the  physical  process,  but  all  reality  and  ground  of  move- 
ment are  in  the  physical  series.  A  volition,  for  example, 
does  not  determine  action,  but  is  rather  only  the  symbol  in 
consciousness  of  the  physical  process  which  underlies  both 
the  symbol  and  the  appropriate  action.  The  symbol  counts 
for  nothing  in  the  dynamic  sequence  of  events,  but  stands 
apart  from  the  chain  of  cause  and  effect  as  a  shadowy 
attendant,  costing  and  causing  nothing. 

It  is  plain  that  this  is  the  extreme  of  automatism.  The 
common  thought  is,  that  in  the  movements  of  history,  the 
foundation  of  states,  the  founding  of  families,  the  activities 
of  invention,  commerce,  literature,  etc.,  the  human  mind 
has  manifested  itself  as  controlling.  But  on  the  theory  in 
question,  all  this  vast  activity  has  taken  place  without  any 
intervention  of  thought  whatever.  Thought  may  have  at- 
tended the  process,  though  even  that  becomes  doubtful,  as 
the  only  reason  for  affirming  thought  in  another  person  is 
the  conviction  that  his  activities  need  thought  for  their  ex- 
planation ;  but  in  any  case  thought  has  adde'd  nothing. 
The  elements  which  produced  the  process  knew  nothing  of 
it,  nor  of  the  thoughts  they  are  supposed  t<5  have  produced. 
The  presence  of  the  thoughts,  instead  of  being  a  help,  was 
rather  a  hindrance,  as  they  represent  so  much  extra  work. 
To  take  a  single  illustration,  the  Principia  of  Newton, 
and  La  Mtcanique  CSleste  of  Laplace,  were  not  the  out- 


THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  31 

come  of  any  thought  whatever,  but  of  a  series  of  physical 
processes  in  two  organisms,  called,  for  distinction's  sake, 
Newton  and  Laplace.  There  was  a  highly  complex  series 
of  nervous  and'  muscular  processes  in  happy  and  profound 
adjustment  to  the  environment,  and  the  outcome  was  that 
propositions  and  scholia  and  corollaries  were  written  down 
in  the  most  astonishing  profusion,  the  whole  being  illus- 
trated by  diagrams,  and  founded  on,  or  explained  in,  the 
most  extraordinary  series  of  equations.  These  are  all 
bound  together  so  as  to  form  a  chain  of  reasoning  of  the 
most  cogent  kind,  and  to  express  a  series  of  the  profoundest 
conceptions  of  physical  astronomy.  Yet  the  nerves  which 
did  all  this  knew  nothing  of  the  solar  system,  or  of  mathe- 
matics, or  of  themselves,  or  of  what  they  were  doing,  or  of 
the  problem  at  which  they  were  working,  or  of  the  attend- 
ant thoughts  which  they  were  producing.  These  thoughts, 
indeed,  which  on  the  common  theory  are  the  ground  of  the 
entire  process,  and  its  only  possible  explanation,  are  on  the 
present  theory  only  so  much  extra  work,  and  hence  are  an 
embarrassment  rather  than  a  help  or  guide.  This  might 
be  called  an  extreme  proposition. 

The  bearings  of  materialism  on  knowledge  are  next  to 
be  considered.     The  following  points  are  to  be  noted. 

1.  Suppose  matter  can  think,  it  does  not  follow  that  it 
must  think  rightly.     Its  thoughts  might  well  be  of  the 
nature  of  fancies  or  dreams,  which,  while  mental  states, 
nevertheless  represent  no  facts'  of  reality.     But,  remem- 
bering that  the  physical  series  is  known  only  through  the 
thought-series,  it  is  plain  that  materialism  must  not  only 
provide  for  a  thought-series  in  general,  but  for  one  parallel 
to  the  nature  of   reality.      Otherwise  knowledge  has  no 
validity,  and  the  foundations  of  materialism  vanish. 

2.  At  first  sight  this  seems  easy.     Since  thought  is  the 
inner  face  of  the  physical  process,  we  may  suppose  that 
the  inside  must  correspond  to  the  outside,  like  the  con- 


32  PSYCHOLOGY. 

cavity  and  convexity  of  a  curve.  But,  to  get  any  help  from 
this  view,  we  must  suppose  that  the  thing  known  is  that 
part  of  the  physical  process  which  lies  over  against  the 
thought,  or  which  produces  it.  But  this  is  never  the  case, 
for  then  our  thought  would  be  a  repetition  of  the  nerve 
processes,  whereas  it  never  reports  these  directly,  but 
reports  rather  facts  and  processes  existing  or  going  on 
outside  of  the  organism  entirely,  such  as  the  facts  of 
physical  nature,  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  others,  etc. 
Oddly  enough,  thought  never  grasps  except  indirectly  the 
organic  processes  on  which  it  is  assumed  to  depend,  or  of 
which  it  is  said  to  be  the  inner  face.  Whence,  then,  the 
parallelism  of  the  thoughts  arising  within  the  organism 
with  the  system  of  nature,  which  is  independent  of  the 
organism  ?  Either  we  must  abandon  knowledge  to  scepti- 
cism, or  we  must  assume  that  matter  by  its  nature  is  shut 
up  to  right  thinking.  Thus  we  come  to  affirm  an  opaque 
harmony  between  matter  and  thought. 

Some  have  sought  to  escape  this  admission  by  appealing 
to  natural  selection.  According  to  them  wrong  thinking 
must  lead  to  collision  with  reality,  and  thus  to  destruction. 
Right  thinking,  again,  will  lead  to  survival,  and  by  he- 
redity will  be  transmitted.  Hence,  in  the  course  of  time, 
natural  selection  will  kill  off  all  false  thinking,  and  will 
adjust  the  human  mind  to  reality,  yet  without  assuming 
any  original  harmony  between  thought  and  thing. 

3.  This  appeal  is  inconsistent  on  the  part  of  the  mate- 
rialist for  several  reasons. 

a.  It  contradicts  the  asserted  powerlessness  of  thought. 
If  thought  attends,  without  affecting,  the  organism,  its 
adjustment  or  misadjustment  is  equally  insignificant  for 
survival.  Organisms  survive  because  of  their  physical  ad- 
justments to  the  system,  and  not  because  of  mental  adjust- 
ment. They  perish  also  because  of  physical  misadjustment, 
not  because  of  mental  misadjustment.  Hence  natural 


THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  33 

selection  can  never  come  into  play  to  secure  mental  adjust- 
ment. It  can  only  secure  physical  adjustment,  but  there 
is  nothing  in  the  idea  of  such  adjustment  which  implies 
that  thoughts  must  be  parallel  to  facts. 

b.  Allowing  that  natural  selection  can  act,  the  principle 
is  too  narrow  in  its  range  to  make  it  of  any  use  as  a  crite- 
rion of  thought  in  general.     Plainly  it  could  do  nothing 
except  in  case  of  truth  related  to  physical  survival,  whereas 
most  truth  has  no  such  relation.     The  bulk  of  theory  and 
speculation  has  such   scanty  reference   to   survival,  that 
some  other  foundation  must  be  sought ;  and  for  the  mate- 
rialist there  is  none  but  the  assumed  harmony  between 
thought  and  fact  in  the  nature  of  matter. 

c.  Again,  if  the  theory  be  allowed  as  a  determining  prin- 
ciple of  belief,  materialism  is  ruled  out  forthwith.     For  in 
that  case  wide-spread  and  enduring  beliefs  are  the  only 
ones  which  have  any  credibility.     Beliefs  contemporane- 
ous with  man,  or  at  least  with  civilization,  catholic  beliefs 
which  have  developed  and  established  themselves  through 
the  ages,  have  absolute  right  of  way,  compared  with  local, 
sectarian,  upstart  beliefs.     The  former  represent  the  sift- 
ing action  of  many  centuries,  and  have  the  fullest  bene- 
diction of  natural  selection.     But  natural  selection  has  not 
dealt  hitherto  in  materialistic  beliefs.     The  proportion  of 
materialists  to  spiritualists  is   probably  less  than  that  of 
idiots  to  persons  of  sound  mind.     Hence,  as  materialists, 
we  must  be  careful  how  we  appeal  to  natural  selection,  for 
thus  far  it  has  gone  dead  against  us. 

d.  If  it  be  said  that  the  principle  has  not  yet  had  time 
to  work,  it  can  be  shown  that  its  future  direction  will  be 
the  same  as  in  the   past.     There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
materialism  is  a  depressing  belief  compared  with  spiritual- 
ism.    The  welfare  both  of  the  individual  and  of  society 
demands   sacrifice,  self-control,  and  high   endeavor ;   but 
these  are  born  only  of  high  conception  and  lofty  hopes. 

3 


34  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Materialism  furnishes  depressing  views  of  man,  —  of  his 
nature,  possibilities,  and  destiny ;  and  hence,  in  the  long 
run,  under  the  influence  of  natural  selection,  it  would  have 
to  yield  to  the  more  hopeful  and  inspiring  view.  Plainly 
natural  selection  is  a  dangerous  ally  for  the  materialists. 

We  are,  then,  shut  up  to  affirm  that  matter  by  its  nature 
is  determined  to  right  thoughts.  But  here  the  fact  appears 
that  most  beliefs  produced  by  matter  are  by  hypothesis 
false.  Since  matter  is  the  sole  source  of  knowledge  and  of 
mental  states,  it  is  to  blame  for  all  superstitions,  theology, 
philosophy,  etc.,  as  well  as  for  the  truths  of  materialism. 
Matter  has  founded  the  spiritual  school  of  philosophy,  as 
well  as  the  materialistic  school ;  indeed,  thus  far  it  has 
favored  almost  exclusively  anti-materialistic  beliefs.  Now, 
since  for  one  sound  belief  matter  has  produced  a  myriad  un- 
sound and  grotesque  ones,  when  shall  we  believe  it  ?  These 
false  beliefs  cannot  be  attributed  to  bad  training,  the  con- 
tagion of  example,  the  influence  of  superstition,  because 
none  of  these  things  seem  able  to  influence  matter,  and,  if 
they  exist,  matter  itself  is  responsible  for  them. 

The  most  natural  conclusion  under  these  circumstances 
would  be,  that  all  belief  is  untrustworthy.  That  which  has 
such  an  irresistible  tendency  towards  error,  superstition, 
and  falsehood  as  matter  has,  must  surely  be  untrustworthy 
in  all  its  deliverances.  But  allowing  that  some  truth  ex- 
ists, we  must  have  a  standard  whereby  we  may  disengage 
it  from  this  tangle  of  error.  We  shall  find  it  hard  to  dis- 
cover a  standard  which  will  enable  us  to  save  knowledge 
and  materialism  at  the  same  time. 

1.  The  test  of  truth  in  this  system  is  not  necessity;  for 
truth  and  error  alike  are  brought  forth  with  equal  necessity 
by  the  nervous  processes. 

2.  It  is  not  reason;  for  reason  is  no  self-centred,  self- 
verifying  faculty,  but  only  a  shifting  of  mental  states  as 
determined  by  the  mechanics  of  the  nervous  system. 


THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  35 

3.  It  is   not  the   majority ;    for  the  majority  is   anti- 
materialistic. 

4.  We  get  no  help  from  assuming  it  to  be  found  in  the 
normal  brain ;  for  then  \ve  need  a  test  for  the  normal  brain. 
It  clearly  is  not  the  majority  brain ;  for  this^K  anti-material- 
istic.    Inquiry  would  show  that  the  normal  brain  is  the  ma- 
terialist's brain,  and  is  known  to  be  normal  by  hypothesis. 

5.  The  standard  of  truth  is  not  success  or  practical  util- 
ity.    Materialism  is  a  depressing  and  paralyzing  doctrine. 

6.  In  fact,  materialism  has  no  standard  of  truth.    Indeed, 
the  distinction  of  truth   and   error   cannot   exist  for  it. 
Since  physical  processes  are  all,  we  might  as  well  talk  of 
true  or  false  bile,  or  true  or  false  blood,  as  to  speak  of 
true  or  false  ideas.     Ideas  are  the  inside  of  nervous  pro- 
cesses, and  their  coming  and  going  are  not  determined  by 
their  logical  truth  or  falsehood,  but  by  the  dynamic  rela- 
tions of  the  corresponding  nervous  states.     But  the  ideas 
of  physical  strength  and  weakness  are  incommensurable 
with  the  logical  ideas  of  truth  and  error.     If  materialism 
be  true,  reason  is  exploded.     Instead  of  being  the  highest 
science  and  philosophy,  it  is  rather  the  death  of  both. 

We  conclude,  then,  that  materialism  is  untenable,  for 
two  leading  reasons.  It  fails  to  explain  even  the  simplest 
mental  fact ;  and  its  implications  are  suicidal.  To  sup- 
port itself  it  is  forced  to  affirm  qualities  in  the  elements 
of  which  physics  knows  nothing,  and  when  it  has  con- 
structed its  "  new  definition  of  matter,"  it  stands  absolutely 
helpless  before  the  simplest  fact  of  our  rational  life.  It  is 
further  compelled  to  turn  men  into  automata,  and  to  af- 
firm that  all  human  affairs  and  activities  are  carried  on 
by  agents  which  know  nothing  of  themselves,  or  of  one 
another,  or  of  the  laws  according  to  which  they  work,  or 
of  the  effects  they  produce.  Having  thus  denied  all  the 
truths  by  which  men  and  nations  live,  materialism  is  finally 
compelled  to  deny  truth,  and  to  drag  reason  itself  down  into 


36  PSYCHOLOGY. 

utter  scepticism.  Refusing  to  surrender,  it  ends  the  siege 
by  blowing  up  the  citadel,  leaving  only  mental  chaos 
behind  it. 

We  began  the  discussion  of  materialism  by  pointing  out 
that  the  facts  upon  which  it  rests  are  ambiguous.  We  may 
suppose  that  the  organism  produces  the  mental  facts,  or 
that  it  simply  conditions  the  activities  of  something  other 
than  itself.  A  further  study  of  mental  facts,  however, 
convinces  us  that  the  former  supposition  is  untenable,  and 
shuts  us  up  to  the  latter.  Hence  we  view  man  as  we  find 
him,  as  a  dual  being,  body  and  soul.  By  the  mind  we  mejm 
the  soul  in  its  intellectual  activities.  The  true  man  is  the 
soul,  but  the  soul  is  connected  with  an  organism  which 
conditions  the  mental  life.  The  body,  however,  though 
other  than  the  soul,  has  still  the  profoundest  significance 
for  the  soul  in  all  its  activities.  It  is  an  instrument  for 
eliciting  and  guiding  the  mental  development,  and  for  put- 
ting the  soul  into  relation  with  the  world  of  things.  This 
conclusion,  moreover,  does  not  rest  upon  our  ignorance  of 
brain  physiology,  so  that  advancing  knowledge  may  at  any 
time  displace  it.  It  rests  rather  upon  the  essential  nature 
of  consciousness,  and  the  insight  that  the  unity  of  con- 
sciousness can  never  result  from  the  interaction  of  any 
plurality  of  things.  Whatever  progress  brain-physiology 
may  make,  it  will  never  bring  us  one  step  nearer  to  mate- 
rialism ;  and  all  the  discoveries  in  this  realm  will  have  to 
be  interpreted  in  accordance  with  this  fact. 

This  view  of  course  does  not  explain  all  difficulties,  nor 
answer  all  questions ;  for  example,  it  does  not  explain  how 
body  and  soul  interact,  nor  the  form  of  their  interaction. 
It  does  not  explain  the  nature  nor  the  extent  of  the  soul's 
dependence  on  the  body.  It  does  not  tell  what  physical 
facts  are  connected  with  given  mental  facts,  nor  even  why 
there  should  be  any  connection.  It  does  not  explain  the 
mental  effects  of  opium,  or  alcohol,  or  disturbances  of  the 


THE   SUBJECT  OF  THE  MENTAL  LIFE.  37 

brain.  It  does  not  explain  the  physical  effect  of  joy,  or 
fear,  or  depression.  So  far  as  these  problems  can  be 
solved,  it  must  be  by  experience.  Some  of  them  admit 
of  no  solution.  Experience  may  reveal  that  certain  facts 
in  the  physical  series  are  accompanied  by  certain  facts  in 
the  mental  series,  and  conversely  ;  but  the  ground  of  their 
connection  will  always  remain  a  mystery.  Physiology,  psy- 
chology, and  pathology,  working  together,  have  the  task  of 
finding  the  actual  relations  of  the  two  series ;  but  before  this 
can  be  done,  the  two  series  must  be  separately  studied  by 
the  methods  proper  to  each.  No  peering  even  into  the  liv- 
ing brain  would  give  the  least  suspicion  of  the  mental  series 
attending  it.  Conversely,  no  inspection  of  consciousness 
can  reveal  the  physical  facts  by  which  it  is  conditioned. 
In  this  way,  by  keeping  separate  things  separate,  we  may 
hope  to  learn  something  of  the  psychical  significance  of  the 
body,  and  of  the  physical  significance  of  the  mind.  But  if 
the  two  series  were  fully  known,  and  were  even  found  to 
run  parallel  throughout  their  entire  length,  we  should  still 
have  simply  a  coincidence  to  be  accepted,  not  a  connection 
to  be  understood. 

But  while  this  view  does  not  remove  all  difficulties,  it 
does  relieve  some.  It  enables  us  to  use  the  language  of 
spontaneous  thought  without  constant  inconsistency.  It 
frees  us  from  the  need  of  talking  of  feelings  which  be- 
long to  no  one,  and  of  mental  states  which  are  states  of 
nothing.  It  also  removes  the  necessity  of  hypostasizing 
consciousness  into  a  fictitious  mental  subject  in  order  to 
escape  admitting  a  real  one.  It  makes  it  unnecessary  to 
repudiate  all  the  utterances  of  our  spontaneous  conscious- 
ness. Finally,  it  saves  us  from  the  somewhat  tedious 
superficialities  and  drolleries  of  materialism,  —  a  service 
by  no  means  to  be  undervalued.  Such  are  its  negative 
advantages.  Positively,  it  provides  for  the  unity  and  con- 
tinuity of  the  mental  life ;  and  it  agrees  so  well  with  our 


38  PSYCHOLOGY. 

spontaneous  consciousness,  that  it  almost  seems  like  an 
immediate  deliverance  of  the  same.  Finally,  by  displacing 
the  manikin  conception  of  humanity,  it  provides  for  some 
consistent  recognition  of  the  ideals  and  practical  principles 
by  which  both  men  and  nations  live.  The  dreary  folly  of 
laboriously  building  up  speculative  theories,  which  every 
hour  we  practically  deny,  may  seem  very  brilliant  for  a 
while,  but  it  grows  tiresome  at  last. 


SENSATION.  39 


CHAPTER  II. 

SENSATION. 

BY  sensation  we  mean  that  peculiar  affection  of  the 
sensibility  which  is  referred  to  some  extra-mental  cause./ 
In  this  respect,  sensation  differs  from  emotion  ;   for   thel  .' 
latter,  while  a  state   of  the  sensibility,  arises  from   theV 
nature  of  our  mental  states  themselves,  and  is  not  referred 
directly  to  any  external  cause.     There  is  no  need  to  inquire 
whether  this  objective  reference  be  objectively  valid ;  for 
in  any  case  it  is  actually  made,  and  serves  as  a  mark  of 
distinction. 

In  our  mature  life,  sensations  have  a  double  reference. 
(1.)  They  are  referred  to  the  self  as  their  subject,  and 
(2.)  they  are  referred  to  extra-mental  objects,  either  as 
their  qualities  or  as  caused  by  them.  In  the  latter  refer- 
ence, sensation  passes  into  perception.  Thus  the  sensa- 
tion of  light  seems  not  so  much  a  subjective  state  as  the 
perception  of  an  objective  quality.  Our  present  study  deals 
with  sensations  only  as  subjective  states. 

Of  the  conditions  of  sensation  nothing  can  be  said 
apriori.  A  certain  nervous  change  is  attended  with  a 
sensation  of  light,  another  with  that  of  sound,  another 
with  pain,  etc.  But  why  they  should  be  attended  with 
certain  sensations  and  not  with  others,  no  one  knows. 
Or  why  they  should  be  attended  with  sensation  at  all, 
while  others  are  not,  is  equally  unknown.  Or  why  sensa- 
tion should  result  only  from  movements  in  the  organism, 
and  not  from  extra-organic  movements,  is  likewise  myste- 
rious. The  doctrine  of  the  clairvoyants,  who  claim  to  see 
by  some  direct  gaze  of  the  soul,  and  without  mediation  of 


40  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  organs  of  sense,  is  in  itself  no  more  mysterious  than 
the  actual  order  of  experience.  Apriori,  one  order  is  as 
possible  as  another.  The  actual  order  must  be  learned 
from  experience. 

The  actual  conditions  of  sensation  are  found  in  some 
form  of  nervous  change.  The  causes  of  this  change  are. 
often  external  to  the  organism ;  often  they  are  within  the 
organism,  and  sometimes  they  are  in  the  mind  itself.  Cor- 
responding thereto,  we  have  respectively  the  extra-organic 
or  objective  sensations,  the  organic,  and  the  subjective 
sensations. 

Supposing  the  end  of  a  nerve  disturbed  in  any  way,  this 
disturbance  must  be  propagated  to  the  brain.  What  hap- 
pens in  the  nerve  is  purely  a  matter  of  speculation.  A 
thoughtless  form  of  speech  often  regards  the  nerves  as 
carrying  the  sensation  to  the  mind,  but  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion reveals  the  absurdity.  Sensations  are  not  things 
which  can  be  handed  along  from  one  atom  to  another,  as 
a  letter  is  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  and  hence,  if  the 
nerves  were  full  of  sensations,  they  would  not  explain  mine. 
In  accordance  with  our  general  views  of  matter,  we  regard 
the  nerves  as  a  molecular  complex ;  and  hence  we  must 
hold  that  molecular  movement  is  the  essential  phenomenon 
of  nervous  action.  At  all  events,  it  is  found  that  some- 
thing takes  place  in  the  nerve,  and  that  this  is  propagated 
through  the  nerve  at  a  rate  of  from  one  hundred  to  three 
hundred  feet  a  second.  It  is  further  found,  that  no  sensa- 
tion results  if  the  nerve-line  be  not  continued  unbroken  to 
the  central  organ.  When  this  is  the  case,  and  the  nervous 
affection  is  propagated  to  the  brain,  there  results  a  fact  of 
a  new  order,  a  conscious  sensation.  This  is  purely  a  mental 
state.  It  is  not  contributed  to  the  mind  by  the  nerves  ;  and 
the  nerves  themselves  do  not  feel.  Sensation  is  a  mental 
reaction  against  nervous  action. 

This  fact  is  inexplicable  on  any  theory.     No  materialist 


SENSATION.  41 

would  claim  that  any  analysis  of  ether-  or  air-waves,  or  of 
a  vibrating  nerve,  would  ever  lead  us  to  the  point  where 
we  should  see  a  sensation  emerging  as  its  necessary  con- 
sequence. He  would  be  compelled  to  accept  the  fact  as  a 
mystery.  On  the  other  hand,  no  spiritualist  would  claim 
to  know  why  a  given  form  of  nervous  action  should  be 
attended  by  one  form,  and  intensity,  of  sensation,  rather 
than  another.  There  is  nothing  in  the  cause  to  suggest 
the  effect ;  and,  conversely,  nothing  in  the  effect  to  suggest 
the  cause.  Just  as  no  reflection  on  a  vibrating  nerve  gives 
sensation  as  its  effect,  so  no  reflection  on  the  sensation 
reveals  a  vibrating  nerve  as  its  cause.  All  but  the  circle- 
squaring  type  of  minds  have  abandoned  the  attempt  to  tell 
how,  or  why,  nervous  action  is  followed  by  sensation ;  or 
why  one  form  of  nervous  action  is  followed  by  one  form 
of  sensation,  and  another  form  by  another.  All  study  in 
this  direction  is  lost,  and  indicates  utter  inability  to  deal 
with  the  problem  in  general.  The  two  orders  are  con- 
nected in  fact ;  but  there  is  nothing  difficult  in  the  notion 
that  the  mental  series  should  be  connected  with  a  totally 
different  physical  series,  either  in  other  animals  or  in  other 
spheres  of  being. 

Thus  far  we  have  considered  the  conditions  of  sensation 
only  in  the  most  general  way.  In  their  further  study  we 
begin  with  the  nervous  excitant  or  stimulus. 

This  is  different  for  different  nerves.  Speaking  broadly, 
we  may  say  that  the  normal  excitant  for  the  optic  nerve  is 
light ;  for  the  ear,  sound ;  for  the  touch,  contact  and  a  cer- 
tain measure  of  resistance ;  for  the  sense  of  temperature, 
heat ;  and  for  the  senses  of  taste  and  smell,  certain  chem- 
ical changes  in  the  corresponding  nerves.  In  most  of  these 
cases,  however,  the  action  of  the  excitant  is  more  complex 
than  was  formerly  thought.  The  structure  of  the  eye  is 
such  as  to  allow  only  ether-vibration  to  reach  the  optic 
nerve,  but  the  simple  falling  of  light  upon  the  nerve  does 


42  PSYCHOLOGY. 

not  produce  the  sensation  of  light.  Both  the  optic  nerves 
and  fibres  are  insensible  to  light,  as  appears  from  the 
so-called  blind  spot  and  the  Purkinje  figures.  Behind  the 
optic  fibres  is  the  region  of  the  rods  and  cones,  and  the  vis- 
ual purple  ;  and  here  it  is  that  the  sensibility  to  light  is 
found.  It  has  been  suggested  that  photo-chemical  changes 
in  this  region  are  the  true  stimuli.  In  the  case  of  the 
ear,  sound  is  the  external  stimulus ;  but  the  auditory 
mechanism  is  extremely  complex,  and  the  functions  of 
its  several  parts  are  unknown.  How  auditory  impulses 
are  generated  in  the  organ  of  Corti  is  as  mysterious,  as 
how  visual  impulses  are  generated  in  the  region  of  the 
rods  and  cones  of  the  eye.  Sensations  of  temperature  are 
due  to  changes  of  heat;  but  the  heat,  instead  of  acting 
directly  upon  the  nerve,  may  produce  its  effect  by  various 
modifications  of  the  surrounding  physical  structure.  The 
skin  and  fongue,  likewise,  have  curious  structures,  whose 
function  may  be  to  give  the  external  excitant  a  form 
adapted  to  the  nerve.  It  has  been  supposed  that  sensa- 
tions of  touch  are  due  to  one  set  of  terminal  organs  in  the 
skin,  and  sensations  of  temperature  to  another ;  but  how 
the  different  stimuli  act  upon  these  organs  is  unknown. 
Smell,  too,  is  due  to  contact  of  odorous  particles  with  the 
olfactory  membrane,  but  it  seems  necessary  that  the  sub- 
stance be  in  a  gaseous  form.  When  the  nostril  is  filled 
with  rose-water,  no  odor  is  perceived ;  thougli  this  might 
well  be  due  to  a  temporary  paralysis  of  the  nerve,  as-  filling 
the  nose  with  water  suffices  to  suspend  smell  for  a  time. 
There  remains,  therefore,  a  great  deal  that  is  mysterious 
in  the  action  of  the  external  stimulus  upon  the  nerves. 
In  the  case  of  the  organic  sensations,  nothing  is  known  of 
the  form  and  mode  of  action  of  the  stimulus.  A  certain 
state  of  the  muscles,  or  viscera,  or  the  nerves  themselves, 
becomes  a  ground  of  sensation,  but  why,  or  how,  is 
unknown. 


SENSATION.  43 

For  objective  sensations  the  excitant  is  generally  peculiar 
for  each  class ;  for  light,  ether-waves ;  for  sound,  air-waves ; 
for  taste,  chemical  action,  etc.  But  it  appears  that  any 
agent  which  affects  the  special  nerves  may  produce  the 
appropriate  sensations.  Thus  a  blow  on  the  head,  or 
pressure  of  the  eyeball,  may  produce  the  sensation  of 
light ;  a  blow  also  may  produce  a  ringing  in  the  ears ; 
while  electricity  serves  to  excite  all  the  senses.  From 
such  facts  the  conclusion  has  been  drawn  that  a  given 
class  of  sensations  may  be  produced  by  various/  stimuli. 
But  the  facts  are  not  absolutely  unambiguous.  We  do  not 
know  what  constitutes  an  adequate  stimulus  in  any  case ; 
and  we  do  not  know  what  modifications  the  external  stimu- 
lus undergoes  before  the  final  effect  is  produced.  It  may 
be,  then,  that  a  given  class  of  sensations  has  only  one 
adequate  stimulus,  and  that,  in  the  cases  referred  to,  this 
adequate  stimulus  is  produced  in  an  unwonted  manner. 
The  pressure  of  the  eyeball  might  cause  a  sensation  of 
light,  by  setting  the  ether  in  the  eye  in  vibration.  Elec- 
tricity might  work  equally  indirectly ;  producing  in  the 
nerves  those  changes  which  are  the  proximate  stimuli  of 
their  appropriate  functions.  It  is  at  least  conceivable 
that  given  sensory  impulses  are  aroused  only  by  stimuli 
of  a  special  character,  and  that  the  action  of  irregular 
stimuli  consists  in  producing  the  adequate  stimulus  in  an 
extraordinary  manner.  The  point  admits  of  no  positive 
decision. 

Sensations  differ  in  quality  to  such  a  degree  as  to  fall 
into  completely  incommensurable  classes.  The  sensations 
of  sound,  light,  pressure,  odor,  warmth,  etc.,  have  nothing 
whatever  in  common,  except  that  they  are  all  affections  of 
the  sensibility.  There  is  no  possibility  of  regarding  them 
as  multiples  of  a  common  unit.  But  for  the  differences  of 
effects  there  must  be  some  difference  in  the  cause.  We 
may  seek  for  this  difference,  (1.)  in  the  external  stimuli, 


44  PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2.)  in  some  specific  energy  of  the  nerves,  and  (3.)  in  the 
form  of  nervous  action. 

1.  The  external  stimulus  falls  into  different  classes,  as 
air-  and  ether-waves,  mechanical  pressure,  and  chemical 
action ;  but  this  difference  of  stimulus  becomes  significant 
only  as  it  produces  difference  of  nervous  action.     It  is, 
however,  far  from  plain  that  the  peculiarities  of  the  stimu- 
lus pass  over  into  the  nervous  action,  so  as  to  found  the 
absolute  difference  of  sensations ;  e.  g.,  the  enormous  differ- 
ence of  velocity  between  waves  of  light  and  those  of  sound 
disappears  from  the  wave  of  molecular  movement  trans- 
mitted along  the  nerves. 

2.  The  most  natural  supposition  would  be,  that  each 
nerve  has  some  specific  peculiarity,  whereby  it  becomes 
the  sufficient  ground  of  the  corresponding  sensation.     If 
such  a  difference  were  admitted,  a  reason  would  be  given 
for  the  difference  of  sensations,  and  for  the  fact  that  a 
given  nerve  seems   to  respond  to  all   stimuli  only  with 
its  appropriate  sensation.     Of  course,  the  simple  fact  that 
a  certain  nerve  is  the  auditory  nerve  would  contain  no 
explanation  of  auditory  sensations;  there  must  be  some 
difference  of  structure  to  found  its  specific  qualities.     For 
a  long  time  this  view  was  held,  under  the  name  of  the 
specific  energy  of  the  nerves.     However,  anatomy  reveals 
no  difference  of  nerve  structure  on  which  to  base  the  dif- 
ference of  function,  and  hence  the  doctrine  lias  been  largely 
abandoned,  or  at  least  greatly  limited.     The  essential  ele- 
ments of  all  nerves,  motory  and  sensory  alike,  seem  to  be 
the  same ;  and  now  it  is  sought  to  account  for  the  differ- 
ence of  function  by  difference  of  connection.     In  that  case, 
the  nerves  would  be  like  the  wires  of  an  electric  battery, 
which  do  various  kinds  of  work  according  to  their  con- 
nections at  either  end,  and  not  according  to  any  specific 
difference  of  structure  in  the  wires  themselves.     Connected 
with  a  telephone,  they  send  out  one  set  of  signals ;  con- 


SENSATION.  45 

nected  with  a  Morse  instrument,  they  send  quite  another. 
Again,  the  effect  of  a  current  will  vary  also  with  the 
connections  at  the  other  end,  producing  ticking,  articu- 
lations, incandescence,  explosion,  etc.,  according  to  the 
circumstances. 

3.  On  this  view,  we  must  have  the  ground  of  the  peculiar 
action  of  special  nerves  at  one  end  or  the  other,  or  at  both. 
In  the  case  of  the  special  senses  we  find  a  series  of  peculiar 
mechanisms  for  the  reception  and  working  over  of  external 
stimuli,  and  these  seem  fitted  to  give  the  action  a  peculiar 
form,  which  might  serve  as  the  ground  of  the  sensational 
difference.  Opposed  to  this  is  the  fact  that  the  optic  nerve, 
if  affected  anywhere  along  its  length,  responds  with  a  sen- 
sation of  light.  This  would  point  to  some  peculiarity 
either  of  the  nerve  itself,  or  of  its  terminal  structure  or 
connection.  The  former  view  having  been  abandoned,  we 
have  only  the  latter  left.  And  anatomy  does  reveal  many 
peculiar  structures  in  the  brain ;  and  we  might  suppose  that 
the  nervous  action,  whatever  its  form,  may  receive  here  a 
new  and  final  transformation,  which  first  fits  it  to  be  the 
ground  of  sensation.  We  should  in  that  case  maintain  the 
doctrine  of  a  specific  energy,  not,  indeed,  of  the  nervous 
fibres,  but  of  the  central  organ.  But  this  view  also  has  its 
difficulties.  (1.)  It  ought  to  be  possible  to  furnish  persons 
born  blind  or  deaf  the  sensations  of  light  or  sound,  provided 
the  trouble  is  due  to  some  imperfection  of  the  external 
organs ;  but  this  does  not  seem  to  be  the  case.  (2.)  The 
view  would  demand  an  absolute  constancy  of  function  which 
does  not  exist.  Many  facts  are  reported  which  point  to 
a  vicarious  action  of  the  nerves,  so  that  a  given  nervous 
tract  can  take  upon  itself  the  labors  of  another  area  upon 
occasion. 

On  all  these  accounts,  the  tendency  in  physiology  is 
toward  the  following  view.  The  sensory  nerves  (omitting 
all  reference  to  the  motor  nerves)  have  primarily  no  differ- 


46  PSYCHOLOGY. 

ence  of  function ;  and  the  ground  of  their  actual  difference 
lies  originally  in  their  peripheral  endings  and  the  stimuli 
to  which  they  give  access  to  the  nerves.  These  endings, 
however,  give  the  nervous  action  a  certain  form ;  and,  as 
they  condition  nearly  all  the  stimuli  which  reach  the  nerves, 
a  given  nerve  is  confined  almost  exclusively  to  one  form  of 
nervous  action.  Hence  the  nerve  gradually  adjusts  itself 
to  that  form,  and  when  disturbed  at  any  point,  or  by  any 
cause,  it  tends  to  take  on  that  form,  just  as  the  wood  of  a 
violin  tends  to  adjust  itself  to  harmonious  vibrations,  and 
becomes  more  effective  thereby.  In  this  way  a  kind  of 
acquired  specific  energy  would  arise,  whereby,  within  cer- 
tain limits,  a  given  nerve  would  remain  faithful  to  its  ac- 
quired modes  of  action.  In  this  way  we  should  explain 
the  fact  that  sensations  of  light  and  sound  remain  possible 
long  after  the  destruction  of  the  external  organs.  But 
while  the  tendency  is  toward  this  view,  it  cannot  be  re- 
garded as  universally  accepted.  It  is  still  held  by  many, 
that  certain  fibres  in  the  ear  are  sensitive  only  to  certain 
tones,  like  the  strings  of  an  instrument,  and  that  different 
sets  of  visual  fibres  correspond  to  the  three  colors  green, 
red,  and  violet.  The  other  colors  are  supposed  to  arise  from 
the  varying  activities  of  these  fibres.  Others  agree  in  af- 
firming differences  of  function  in  the  optical  fibres,  but  dif- 
fer in  their  conception  of  the  basal  colors.  It  is  not  always 
easy,  however,  to  see  how  these  views  serve  the  purpose  of 
their  invention.  The  facts  of  color-blindness  would  find 
an  easy  explanation  in  them ;  but  it  is  not  clear  how  blue  or 
yellow  is  to  arise  from  a  simultaneous  excitation  of  the 
fibres  which  produce  green,  red,  and  violet. 

It  is  plain  from  the  foregoing,  that  concerning  the  par- 
ticular form  of  the  nervous  action  nothing  can  be  known. 
To  what  extent  the  original  vibration  of  the  ether  is  modified 
in  the  retina,  and  in  its  passage  througli  the  central  organs 
of  vision,  is  beyond  all  suspicion.  Our  current  physical 


SENSATION.  47 

science,  however,  leaves  us  no  choice  but  to  regard  the 
action  as  some  form  of  movement ;  and  as  vibrations  are 
always  fashionable,  we  may  view  it  as  a  species  of  vibration. 
"We  might  in  that  case  assume  that  the  difference  of  sensa- 
tions depends  upon  the  difference  in  these  vibrations.  They 
might  be  conceived  as  longitudinal,  or  transverse,  or  as 
moving  in  closed  orbits  and  with  different  velocities.  Leav- 
ing such  fancies  to  themselves,  we  may  point  out  that  sim- 
ple movements  of  matter,  of  whatever  sort,  can  never  be  a 
sufficient  ground  of  sensation.  Such  movements  are  simply 
a  passage  of  one  or  more  elements  from  one  point  to  an- 
other ;  and  there  is  no  way  of  connecting  them  with  mental 
changes  except  by  supposing  that  there  is  a  deeper  dynamic 
relation  which  is  the  real  ground  of  the  sensation.  Indeed, 
metaphysics  convinces  us  that,  even  in  the  physical  world, 
the  spatial  system  of  changes  among  things  is  really  only 
the  visible  translation  of  a  metaphysical  system  of  inter- 
action in  things.  Things  do  not  act  on  one  another  because 
they  move,  but  they  move  because  they  act  on  one  another. 
It  is  not  the  fact  that  the  nerve  molecules  vibrate  which  fits 
them  to  the  ground  of  sensation,  but  the  fact  that  they  are 
in  dynamic  relations  with  the  soul.  The  sensations,  there- 
fore, are  not  to  be  referred  to  the  vibrations,  but  rather  to 
that  internal  energy  of  which  the  vibration  is  the  spatial 
expression.  But  since  the  relation  between  the  inner  en- 
ergy and  the  spatial  expression  is  regarded  as  constant,  we 
may  take  the  latter  as  the  equivalent  of  the  former,  and 
continue  to  speak  of  vibrations  as  the  ground  of  sensation. 
This  conception  of  nervous  action  implies  that  all  ante- 
cedents of  sensation  can  be  conceived  as  phases  of  a  com- 
mon process,  so  that  by  varying  the  common  factors  we 
might  pass  through  the  entire  series.  By  modifying  ve- 
locity and  direction  any  form  of  vibration  might  be  made 
to  pass  into  any  other  whatever.  In  that  case,  all  sensory 
impulses  might  be  arranged  on  a  scale  like  the  colors  of 


48  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  spectrum  or  the  notes  of  music.  But  such  an  order 
would  lead  us  to  expect  a  corresponding  community  in  the 
members  of  the  sensational  series  and  the  possibility  of 
arranging  our  sensations  on  a  common  scale.  Such  a  fact, 
however,  does  not  exist.  It  is  not  always  easy  to  find  a 
common  element  in  the  sensations  of  the  same  nerve,  e.  g. 
the  optic  nerve ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  find  any  common 
feature  in  the  data  of  the  different  senses,  or  any  possibility 
of  passing  from  one  to  the  other  by  intermediate  gradations. 
Such  a  possibility  may  exist  on  the  physical  side,  but  it 
does  not  exist  on  the  mental  side.  In  a  later  paragraph 
we  shall  refer  to  the  attempt  to  reduce  our  sensations  to  a 
common  sensational  unit. 

Our  complete  ignorance  of  what  takes  place  in  the  nerves 
is  no  psychological  loss.  For  practical  purposes,  we  should 
be  no  wiser  if  we  had  the  profoundest  insight  into  the 
action  of  the  external  stimulus ;  and  psychologically,  also, 
we  should  be  no  better  off  if  we  knew  all  about  the  form  of 
the  nervous  action  in  any  special  experience,  and  the  place 
of  its  location.  The  ability  to  locate  and  describe  every 
sensory  and  motor  process  would  only  give  us  an  exact 
knowledge  of  the  physical  antecedents  of  sensation,  but 
would  bring  us  no  nearer  to  comprehending  how  they  pro- 
duce sensations,  or  hQw  sensations  are  worked  over  after 
they  are  produced,  or  even  what  the  sensations  are.  Indeed, 
the  facts  with  which  we  have  been  dealing  are  not  properly 
psychological  facts  at  all.  The  idealist,  of  course,  would 
deny  that  they  are  facts  of  any  kind. 

Another  question  of  considerable  interest,  but  of  about 
as  little  psychological  significance,  concerns  the  relation  of 
the  intensity  of  the  sensation  to  that  of  the  stimulus. 

Sensations  differ  in  quality,  and  thereby  are  distinguished 
into  different  classes.  Sensations  of  the  same  class  differ 
in  intensity,  and  the  commonest  experiences  show  that  this 
varies  with  the  stimulus.  In  seeking  for  the  relation  be- 


SENSATION.  ,49 

tween  the  intensity  of  sensation  and  nervous  action,  it  is, 
of  course,  impossible  to  observe  the  nervous  action  which 
immediately  precedes  the  sensation,  and  it  only  remains 
to  study  the  relation  between  sensation  and  the  exter- 
nal stimulus.  Several  difficulties  may  be  mentioned  in 
advance. 

1.  The  distinction  of  intensity  itself  is  generally  a  quali- 
tative as  well  as  a  quantitative'  one,  and  in  most  cases  it  is 
due  to  an  unwillingness  to  multiply  classes  beyond  neces- 
sity.    In  fact,  the  sensations  of  the  same  class,  which,  out 
of  respect  for  established  classification,  we  regard  as  differ- 
ing only  in  intensity,  differ  also  in  quality.     Hence,  a  vary- 
ing intensity  of  the  stimulus  often  produces,  not  a  more 
intense  sensation,  but  a  different  one.   Increase  of  pressure, 
heat,  light,  or  intensity  of  flavor  or  odor  results  in  sen- 
sations of  different  qualitative  nature.     Cold  is  not  a  faint 
sensation  of  warmth ;  and  a  burn  is  not  an  intensified  glow 
of  comfort.     A  given  flavor  diluted  may  have  a  pleasing 
taste  ;  concentrated,  it  may  be  utterly  disgusting.     Yet  it 
would  hardly  do  to  call  the  disgust  intensified  pleasure  be- 
cause the  stimuli  in  the  two  cases  differ  only  in  intensity. 
It  is  only  in  the  case  of  sounds  that  we  can  distinguish  with 
any  certainty  a  quality  (the  pitch)  which  remains  the  same 
through  all  variations  of  intensity. 

2.  The  effect  never  depends  entirely  upon  the  external 
stimulus.     The  state  of  the  nervous  system,  the  amount  oi 
expectation  and  attention,  the  continuance  of  effects  in  the  / 
nerves  after  the  stimulus  has  been  removed,  are  all  to  be 
taken  into  account.     An  exhausted  nerve  responds  with 
diminishing  vigor.     An  excited  nerve,  especially  the  optic 
nerve,  continues  to  produce  sensation  after  the  stimulus  is 
removed.    After-images,  the  vision  of  complementary  colors, 
and  the  temporary  blindness  after  looking  at  the  sun,  are 
examples.     Sensations  of  temperature,  on  the  other  hand, 
depend,  within  certain  limits,  altogether  on  the  direction  of 

4 


50  PSYCHOLOGY. 

change  ;  so  that  the  same  absolute  temperature  may  be  felt 
as  either  hot  or  cold,  according  to  circumstances. 

These  difficulties  would  be  fatal,  if  the  aim  were  to  find 
a  fixed  connection  between  a  given  intensity  of  stimulus 
and  a  given  intensity  of  sensation.  Discounting  such  high 
claims,  we  may  glance  at  what  has  been  done  in  this  field. 

It  is  easy  to  arrange  a  series  of  stimuli  of  a  given  class 
on  a  numerical  scale,  so  that  their  relative  intensity  can  be 
seen  or  calculated.  It  is  equally  easy  to  observe  the  re- 
sulting sensations,  but  it  is  not  possible  to  arrange  their 
intensities  on  a  numerical  scale.  We  have,  indeed,  a  fine 
sense  for  more  or  less,  but  we  cannot  tell  how  much  more 
or  less.  We  find  no  sensation  of  which  we  can  say  that  it 
is  just  twice  as  strong  as  another.  If  this  were  possible, 
our  task  would  be  easy.  We  should  only  need  to  compare 
the  numerical  scale  of  the  resulting  sensations  in  order  to 
get  the  law  of  their  connection. 

But  since  this  is  impossible,  we  must  adopt  some  indirect 
method.  E.  g.,  we  may  take  some  stimulus  of  measured 
intensity,  and  increase  or  decrease  it  gradually,  and  note 
the  point  at  which  an  increase  or  decrease  of  sensation  is 
perceptible.  The  process  may  be  repeated  in  either  direc- 
tion, and  thus  we  may  get  the  following  scale  : 


S, 


where  S,  etc.  represent  the  just  distinguishable  sensa- 
tions, and  a,  etc.  represent  the  stimuli.  The  series  a,  al9 
etc.  may  be  a  series  of  weights  ;  and  S,  S^  etc.  may  be 
a  series  of  just  distinguishable  sensations  of  weight.  We 
should  find  that  the  same  increase  of  stimulus  which  pro- 
duces a  feeling  of  change  in  the  lower  members  of  the 
series  does  not  suffice  to  produce  such  feeling  in  the  higher 
members  ;  e.  g.,  we  can  easily  distinguish  between  one  and 
two  ounces,  but  not  between  ten  pounds  and  ten  pounds 


SENSATION.  51 

and  one  ounce.  Or  we  can  see  at  once  that  a  two-inch 
line  is  longer  than  a  one  inch  line,  but  not  that  a  line 
fifty-one  inches  long  is  longer  than  another  of  fifty  inches. 
In  order  to  produce  a  sense  of  difference,  the  increase  of 
stimulus  must  bear  some  general  proportion  to  the  stimulus 
itself.  E.  H.  Weber,  who  first  broke  ground  in  this  matter, 
declared  the  law  to  be,  that  the  increase  of  the  stimulus 
must  be  a  fixed  proportion  of  the  stimulus ;  e.  g.,  if,  holding 
a  pound  weight,  I  must  add  an  ounce  in  order  to  perceive 
a  difference,  then,  holding  a  two-pound  weight,  I  must  add 
two  ounces  before  any  difference  is  perceived.  In  like 
manner,  n  pounds  must  be  increased  by  n  ounces  to  pro- 
duce a  sense  of  difference.  This  ratio  is  different  for  the 
different  senses,  being  about  3  :  4  for  the  ear  and  feelings 
of  pressure,  15  : 16  for  muscular  sensations,  and  100  : 101 
for  the  eye.  We  should  also  find  that,  below  a  certain 
point,  there  would  be  no  sensation.  This  point  is  called 
the  "  threshold,"  and  determines  the  absolute  sensibility  of 
the  nerve  in  question.  The  constant  fraction  which  must 
be  added  to  produce  a  feeling  of  difference  determines  the 
discriminative  sensibility. 

The  formula  we  have  given  is  known  as  Weber's  law, 
and  the  method  described  was  employed  by  Weber  himself, 
and  is  known  as  the  method  of  smallest  perceptible  differ- 
ences. Besides  this,  various  other  methods  are  employed 
for  the  same  purpose  of  establishing  a  relation  between  the 
intensity  of  the  sensation  and  the  stimulus,  but  they  add 
nothing  to  the  result.  The  law  itself  is  valid  only  within 
narrow  limits.  It  does  not  hold  at  all  for  some  classes  of 
sensations,  and  is  invalid  for  others  whenever  the  stimulus 
is  very  large  or  very  small. 

This  empirical  law  has  been  transformed  by  Fechner,  so 
as  to  express  the  numerical  relation  between  the  variation 
of  the  stimulus  and  that  of  the  sensation.     Recurring  to  , 
the  two  series, 


52  PSYCHOLOGY. 


a. 


the  latter  series,  by  Weber's  law,  increases  in  geometrical 
progression.  If  now  we  assume  that  the  smallest  percepti- 
ble difference,  Su  —  £n_i,  is  a  constant  quantity  wherever 
it  occurs  in  the  series,  then  the  series  $,  /S"i,  etc.  increases 
in  arithmetical  progression.  In  that  case,  $,  jSlt  etc. 
would  not  increase  as  a,  a1}  a2,  etc.,  but  as  the  logarithm 
of  the  respective  terms,  and  the  intensity  of  the  sensation 
would  vary  as  the  logarithm  of  the  stimulus.  This  is 
Fechner's  law.  It  has  several  short-comings  :  — 

1.  It   assumes  the   absolute   validity   of    Weber's   law, 
whereas    that    is    only    an    empirical    rule    with    many 
exceptions. 

2.  It   assumes  the   constancy  of  the   least  perceptible 
difference  for  all  points  of  the  scale,  which  is  not  only 
arbitrary,  but  doubtful. 

3.  It  assumes  that  intensity  is  the  only  standard  of  dis- 
tinction among  the  resulting  sensations.      But  we  have 
seen  that  different  intensities  of  stimulus  are  often  attended 
by  qualitative  differences  of  sensation;  and  these  might 
well  be  the  ground  of  distinction.     The  possibility  at  least 
deserves  attention. 

4.  Fechner's  formula   taken    absolutely   leads   to    psy- 
chological nonsense.     Mathematically  expressed,  it  would 
read, 

S=K,  logE, 

where  K  is  a  constant  and  E  is  the  stimulus.  Hence  for 
E  =  1  we  should  have 


and  for  E  <  1  we  should  have  $  =  a  minus  quantity  ;  and 
finally,  for  E  =  0  we  should  have  iS  =  —  oo. 

That  is,.  for  the  unit  of  stimulus  we  should  have  no  sen- 


SENSATION.  53 

sation ;  for  anything  less  than  this  we  should  have  negative 
sens.ations ;  and  finally,  for  zero  stimulus  we  should  have 
an  infinite  negative  sensation.  That  is,  in  the  name  of  a 
mathematical  formula,  psychology  is  loaded  down  with 
meaningless  absurdity. 

Since  the  terms  compared  in  the  previous  estimates  are 
the  external  stimulus  and  the  subjective  perception  of  dif- 
ference, which  are  at  least  one  remove  of  mediated  action 
from  each  other,  Weber's  law  admits  of  a  threefold  inter- 
pretation. We  may  regard  it  as  expressing  the  relation  of 
the  stimulus  to  the  nervous  action,  or  of  the  nervous  action 
to  mental  change,  or  of  the  nervous  action  to  our  power  of 
discrimination.  These  have  been  called  respectively  the 
physiological,  the  psychophysical,  and  the  psychological  in- 
terpretations of  Weber's  law.  The  second  view  differs  from 
the  third  in  assuming  a  continuous  order  of  mental  change, 
which  corresponds  with  the  continuity  of  the  physical 
change,  but  which  may  or  may  not  be  conscious.  On  this 
view  the  law  expresses  the  relation  of  the  nervous  action 
to  this  psychical  reaction.  Consciousness  is  something 
which  results  from  this  psychical  activity  when  it  reaches 
a  certain  degree  of  intensity,  called  the  "  threshold." 

The  physiological  view  is  exposed  to  the  objection,  that 
it  assumes  a  continuity  of  physical  causation  without 
assignable  continuity  of  physical  effect.  The  cause  in- 
creases continuously,  while  the  effect  increases  discontinu- 
ously.  To  explain  this,  we  must  assume  some  imaginary 
complexity  of  nervous  structure,  or  some  imaginary  laws 
of  nervous  action.  This  view  makes  Weber's  law  purely 
physiological,  and  without  any  psychological  significance. 
It  assumes,  also,  that  the  nervous  action  and  the  mental 
effect  vary  in  the  same  proportion. 

The  psychophysical  explanation  has  been  objected  to  by 
the  physiologists,  as  not  accounting  for  the  varying  degrees 
of  sensibilitv  to  difference  in  the  different  senses.  But  this 


54  PSYCHOLOGY. 

objection  assumes,  (1.)  that  the  fact  is  clearer  on  the  physio- 
logical theory,  which  is  a  mistake ;  and  (2.)  that  there  is 
some  common  factor  in  the  nervous  process  which  is  to 
be  transmuted  into  a  mental  process.  But  if  we  have  to 
admit  that  certain  nerve  processes  are  attended  by  certain 
sensations,  and  certain  others  by  other  sensations,  there  is 
no  difficulty  in  admitting  that  more  energy  is  required  to 
produce  certain  kinds  of  mental  change  than  to  produce 
certain  others.  In  truth,  neither  this  theory  nor  the  pre- 
ceding one  contains  any  account  of  the  discontinuity  of  the 
sensational  series.  Even  if  we  admit  Fechner's  law,  we 
are  unable  to  deduce  the  discontinuity  in  question;  for 
then,  for  each  variation  of  the  stimulus,  there  ought  to  be 
some  variation  of  the  sensation.  The  defenders  of  each 
view  have  generally  sought  to  maintain  Fechner's  formula 
rather  than  to  deduce  Weber's  facts. 

The  psychological  theory  is  nearer  the  facts  than  either 
of  the  others.  In  Weber's  law,  the  subjective  factor  is 
really  our  power  of  discrimination  ;  and  the  law  does  not 
express  a  relation  between  the  stimulus  and  the  sensation 
considered  as  an  isolated  mental  state  or  a  phase  of  psy- 
chical activity,  but  between  the  stimulus  and  our  power 
to  perceive  differences.  However  the  mental  change  may 
vary  in  relation  to  the  stimulus,  this  change  must  reach 
a  certain  degree  to  become  perceptible.  This  degree,  more- 
over, is  variable.  Attention  and  practice  greatly  increase 
our  power  of  appreciating  differences ;  e.  g.,  with  the  blind, 
touch  almost  takes  on  the  character  of  a  new  sense.  This 
is  not  a  very  striking  or  valuable  result ;  but  it  is  the  gist 
of  the  matter.  A  somewhat  blind  enthusiasm  has  magni- 
fied Fechner's  formula  into  undue  importance.  So  far  as 
true,  it  represents  simply  an  interesting  fact,  but  no  sig- 
nificant principle.  As  far  as  one  can  judge  from  the  con- 
fused utterances  on  the  subject,  there  seems  to  be  a  fancy 
that  the  discovery  of  a  measurable  intensity  and  duration 


SENSATION.  55 

In  sensation  in  some  way  proves  the  mind  to  be  a  physical 
product.1 

The  duration  of  the  sensation  in  general  is  about  the 
same  as  that  of  the  stimulus.  This  is  especially  the  case 
with  hearing  and  touch.  In  some  cases,  however,  the  sen- 
sation continues  to  some  extent  after  the  external  stimulus 
is  removed.  This  is  best  explained  by  supposing  the  ner- 
vous action  to  continue  beyond  the  excitement,  and  only 
gradually  to  die  away.  This  may  be  due  either  to  changes 
in  the  surrounding  physical  structure,  as  in  case  of  heat, 
or  to  direct  continuance  in  the  nerves  themselves,  as  in 
the  optic  nerve.  It  is  in  the  eye  that  the  phenomena  are 
especially  noticeable,  and  often  annoying.  After-images  are 
examples.  When  we  look  at  some  bright  object  and  then 
close  the  eyes,  an  image  often  persists.  These  are  called 
positive  after-images,  and  are  best  seen  after  momentary 
action  of  the  stimulus.  When  a  white  object  on  a  black 
ground  is  intently  gazed  at,  and  the  eyes  are  then  turned 
to  a  white  ground,  the  object  will  appear  as  a  gray  image 
on  the  white  ground.  A  black  object  on  a  white  ground 
has  a  white  negative  image  on  a  gray  ground.  The  other 
colors  have  negative  images  in  their  complementary  colors. 
These  facts  have  been  explained  as  owing  to  exhaustion  of 
the  retinal  area  upon  which  the  original  image  fell,  so  that 
the  subsequent  stimulation  finds  a  part  of  the  area  less 
sensitive  than  the  surrounding  parts,  and  thus  the  after- 
image arises.  If  we  suppose  the  area  which  received  the 
image  of  the  white  spot  to  be  exhausted,  then,  on  turning 
the  eye  to  a  white  ground,  that  area  will  be  less  sensitive 
to  the  light  than  the  other  parts,  and  thus  will  give  rise  to 
a  negative  image.  This  explanation,  however,  does  not 

1  On  this  subject  see  Fechner's  works,  especially  his  Revision  der  Haupt- 
punkte  der  Psychophyslk ;  Delbceuf  's  Elements  de  la  Psychophysique  ;  Wundt's 
Physiologische  Psycho/ogie ;  and  G.  E.  Miiller's  Zur  Grundlegung  der  Psycho- 
physilc. 


56  PSYCHOLOGY. 

clearly  apply  to  those  after-images  which  arise  when  there 
is  no  second  stimulation.  The  eyes  may  he  kept  shut,  and 
all  light  excluded,  and  after-images  may  still  result.  The 
white  spot  appears  as  a  black  spot,  and  conversely  the 
black  spot  appears  light.  The  explanation  of  these  facts 
is  purely  hypothetical.  Finally,  the  optic  nerve  seems 
never  entirely  inactive,  but  always  produces  some  sensa- 
tions of  light,  varying  greatly,  however,  with  the  state  of 
the  eye,  and  with  the  constitution  of  the  person. 

It  is  this  fact,  that  the  nerves  as  a  rule  quickly  re- 
turn to  their  equilibrium  of  indifference,  which  fits  them 
to  be  servants  of  intelligence.  Otherwise  all  consecutive 
excitations  would  run  together,  and  all  rapid  action  of  the 
senses  would  be  impossible  because  of  the  resulting  con- 
fusion. 

Thus  far  we  have  spoken  only  of  the  stimulus  and  the 
nervous  action.  We  have  seen  that  the  latter  subject  is 
wrapped  in  mystery,  and  is  likely  to  remain  so.  At  the 
same  time,  we  have  seen  that  this  is  no  psychological  loss, 
as  the  outcome  of  even  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  subject 
would  give  us  no  hint  of  the  psychical  nature  of  sensations, 
but  only  of  their  physical  conditions.  And  since,  from  a 
causal  standpoint,  their  connection  is  purely  arbitrary,  we 
have  no  ground  for  thinking  that  the  same  order  might  not 
be  produced  in  entirely  different  ways,  or  for  thinking  that 
our  sensations  exhaust  the  possibilities  of  the  case.  The 
system  of  sensations  is  not  a  closed  one,  and  its  members 
have  no  internal  unity.  It  is,  therefore,  entirely  possible 
that  differently  organized  beings  have  Orders  of  sensation 
of  which  we  have  no  suspicion,  and  are  affected  by  agencies 
to  which  our  nerves  make  no  response.  Of  course,  this 
possibility  does  not  assure  the  fact.  We  pass  now  to  con- 
sider the  sensations  themselves. 

Simple  sensations  are  said  to  be  distinguished  in  quality, 
intensity,  and  tone.     Of  course,  they  may  be  distinguished 


SENSATION.  57 

in  time,  duration,  localization,  etc. ;  but  these  are  qualities 
which  do  not  belong  to  them  in  themselves,  but  only  in 
their  relations.  The  primal  distinction  is  that  of  quality. 
The  other  two  are  more  doubtful.  It  seems  probable  that 
they  arise  from  a  certain  regard  for  logical  convenience, 
rather  than  from  a  study  of  the  sensations  themselves. 
The  mind  has  an  obvious  interest  in  reducing  the  number 
of  classes  to  a  mininum,  and  thus  a  great  many  qualitative 
differences  are  overlooked.  Nevertheless,  they  must  be 
taken  into  account  in  some  way,  and  then  some  new  dis- 
tinction must  be  invented  whereby  the  classification  may 
be  retained  and  the  differences  be  recognized.  In  this  way 
the  notions  of  intensity  and  tone  arise.  We  have  seen 
that  the  so-called  differences  of  intensity  are  generally 
qualitative,  and  the  same  may  be  said  for  differences  of 
tone.  Sensations  with  different  tone  are  qualitatively 
different  sensations,  but  for  convenience'  sake  they  are 
identified  in  quality  and  distinguished  in  tone.  This 
method  is  further  supposed  by  the  reference  of  our  sen- 
sations to  things  as  their  qualities.  In  this  way  the 
sensations  take  on  the  fixedness  of  things,  and  all  dis- 
tinction must  be  put  either  in  the  intensity  or  in  the  tone. 
Previous  to  classification  and  objective  reference,  however, 
all  differences  must  be  regarded  as  qualitative.  Thereafter 
the  distinctions  made  must  be  recognized.  It  seems  proba- 
ble that  the  classification  of  sensations  depends  largely 
upon  their  localization,  so  that  they  are  grouped  rather  by 
the  community  of  organ  than  by  similarity  of  content.  A 
consciousness  furnished  with  our  sensational  experience, 
but  without  knowledge  of  the  organs  of  sense  would  hardly 
group  its  sensations  as  we  do. 

That  which  we  have  spoken  of  as  tone  is  more  commonly 
called  feeling ;  and  some,  as  Hamilton,  have  called  it  sensa- 
tion. This  curious  uncertainty  arises  in  this  way.  Some 
of  our  sensations  are  objectified  as  qualities  of  things,  while 


58  PSYCHOLOGY. 

others  are  recognized  simply  as  states  of  our  sensibility, 
and  have  no  objective  reference.  Thus  the  former  come  to 
be  distinguished  from  the  latter  as  percepts  from  sensa- 
tions. Again,  a  certain  amount  of  organic  feeling  attends 
the  action  of  the  external  senses,  and  in  the  case  of  taste 
and  smell  it  is  so  high  as  almost  to  obscure  the  perceptive 
element.  Hence  Hamilton  laid  down  the  law  that  sensa- 
tion and  perception  vary  inversely,  where  sensation  can 
only  mean  the  organic  feeling  attending  the  action  of  the 
senses.  But  as  we  have  used  sensation  to  designate  any  of 
the  effects  produced  in  us  by  the  action  of  the  outer  world, 
we  cannot  adopt  the  Hamiltonian  terminology.  Nor  do  we 
propose  to  use  the  term  tone.  We  are  here  at  a  parting  of 
the  ways  in  the  mental  life.  Our  sensations  as  a  whole 
have  a  double  reference.  They  may  present  an  object  to 
the  intellect,  and  they  may  be  simply  an  experience  in  the 
sensibility.  They  may  be  projected  outward  as  qualities  of 
things,  and  they  may  remain  as  simply  states  of  feeling. 
After  the  projection  takes  place,  our  sensations  seem  to  be 
really  perceptions,  and  to  have  no  sensational  element. 
This  seems  to  be  found  only  in  the  other  set.  Here  is  the 
beginning  of  the  distinction  between  knowing  and  feeling, 
or  between  the  intellect  and  the  sensibility.  Again,  in  the 
case  of  the  projected  sensations  we  find  an  accompanying 
element  of  sensibility,  which  varies  greatly  with  circum- 
stances, and  which  is  well  described  as  the  tone  of  the 
sensation.  This  tone  is  an  addition  to  the  mental  object 
as  presented  to  the  intellect ;  it  is  a  coloring  given  to  it  by 
the  sensibility.  Sensations  may  be  roughly  divided  into 
percepts  and  physical  feelings ;  but  neither  of  these  classes 
exists  in  absolute  purity. 

Out  of  the  facts  just  mentioned  springs  the  distinction  of 
the  intellectual  and  the  organic  sensations.  The  former 
are  so  called  because  they  appear  to  reveal  to  us  the  world 
of  things,  while  the  latter  only  reveal  to  us  something 


SENSATION.  59 

about  ourselves  and  our  bodies.  Some  scruples  might  be 
raised  if  this  distinction  were  made  absolute;  but  it  is 
sufficiently  correct  for  practical  purposes. 

The  intellectual  sensations  are  those  commonly  ascribed 
to  the  five  senses,  —  smell,  taste,  touch,  hearing,  and  vision. 
The  last  three  are  called  pre-eminently  the  intellectual 
senses,  because  they  contribute  immeasurably  more  knowl- 
edge than  taste  or  smell. 

The  organic  sensations  have  largely  the  teleological  func- 
tion of  giving  warning  of  organic  needs  or  dangers.  Such 
especially  are  hunger  and  thirst,  and  their  opposites ;  and 
also  the  feelings  of  strain  and  weariness.  The  sensations 
connected  with  motion  are  especially  significant  for  the 
regulation  of  motion  and  the  position  of  the  body.  These 
are  often  of  a  marvellous  degree  of  fineness,  and  any  dis- 
turbance of  them  is  sure  to  be  attended  with  clumsy  or 
uncertain  movements.  The  digestive  system  also  may  be 
the  seat  of  not  over-pleasant  sensations.  The  nervous  sys- 
tem too  may  be  variously  disturbed,  and  give  rise  to  vari- 
ous sensations,  marked  or  obscure.  From  the  total  action 
of  the  organic  factors  results  a  general  tone  of  feeling, 
as  of  vigor  or  languor,  comfort  or  discomfort,  etc.  The 
general  character  of  the  organic  sensations  is,  that  they 
are  directly  related  to  action,  either  as  attendants,  or  as 
results,  or  as  stimuli,  and  are  only  indirectly  related  to 
knowledge. 

The  proper  source  of  the  sensations  connected  with 
motion  has  been  much  discussed.  Three  classes  are 
given,  —  (1.)  sensations  of  the  skin,  (2.)  sensations  of  the 
muscles,  and  (3.)  sensations  of  the  brain  due  to  innerva- 
tion.  In  sensations  of  the  third  class  we  are  supposed 
especially  to  have  a  feeling  of  effort,  and  a  sense  of  ef- 
fort has  been  added  to  the  list  of  senses  on  this  account. 
Naturally  there  have  been  attempts  to  recognize  only  one 
source.  Some  have  sought  to  explain  the  muscular  sen- 


60  PSYCHOLOGY. 

sations  as  really  due  to  the  changes  in  the  skin  produced 
by  expansion  and  contraction  of  the  muscles.  The  re- 
ality of  a  special  muscular  sense,  however,  may  be  re- 
garded as  established.  The  third  class  of  sensations  has 
been  questioned  as  being  only  echoes  of  the  muscular 
sense.  The  sense  of  effort  may  be  a  complex  result  of  pe- 
ripheral changes,  and  not  something  arising  directly  in  the 
brain  from  the  impulse  of  the  will.  In  favor  of  the  central 
sense  is  the  fact  that  a  paralytic  may  be  conscious  of  effort 
when  no  movement  results  ;  although  it  is  suggested  in 
reply  that  the  effect  may  be  due  to  movement  in  other 
parts  of  the  organism.  It  is  further  urged,  that  the  dis- 
crimination of  weight  depends  on  our  sense  of  effort ;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  this  discrimination  takes  place,  though 
not  so  accurately,  when  muscular  contraction  is  artificially 
produced.  The  sense  of  effort  is  a  somewhat  doubtful 
hypothesis. 

Organic  sensations  are  often  called  subjective,  particu- 
larly those  which  arise  from  the  mental  state.  Sometimes, 
too,  sensations  which  normally  have  an  extra-organic  cause 
are  produced  by  abnormal  states  of  the  organism.  Such 
are  the  sights  and  sounds  which  often  accompany  brain 
disease,  or  the  delirium  of  fever,  etc.  Such,  too,  is  the 
influence  of  the  mind  upon  the  body,  that  certain  sights  or 
expectations,  or  the  concentration  of  attention  upon  the 
sense  in  question,  often  serve  to  produce  more  or  less 
marked  sensations.  The  sight  of  a  disgusting  object  may 
serve  to  produce  nausea ;  the  belief  that  we  are  seriously 
injured  may  produce  faintness  or  distress ;  the  expectation 
of  being  tickled  may  serve  to  produce  unpleasant  feeling, 
etc.  It  is  often  impossible  to  fix  the  attention  upon  any 
organ  without  observing  a  modification  of  its  action.  We 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  a  cut  or  bruise,  and  are  nause- 
ated at  the  mention  of  sundry  things.  This  fact  has  been 
made  the  basis  of  an  explanation  of  various  phenomena  of 


SENSATION.  61 

mesmerism  and  spiritualism.  Expectation  and  the  power 
of  a  dominant  idea  are  assumed  to  account  for  the  phe- 
nomena. 

The  local  character  of  sensations  remains  to  be  noticed. 
In  the  developed  mental  life  sensations  are  referred  to 
some  part  of  the  body ;  and  this  can  take  place  only 
through  some  qualitative  peculiarity  of  the  sensations 
themselves.  If  all  sensations  were  qualitatively  alike, 
there  would  be  no  reason  for  referring  them  to  different 
parts  of  the  organism.  This  difference  founds  the  local 
character  of  the  sensations,  and  has  been  called  their  local 
sign.  It  is  that  through  which  their  localization  takes 
place,  and  without  which  it  would  be  impossible.  At  the 
same  time,  it  is  often  impossible  to  separate  this  element 
in  consciousness ;  it  is  known  only  by  its  results. 

In  speaking  of  the  factors  to  be  considered  we  have  rec- 
ognized only  three, —  (1.)  the  stimulus,  (2.)  the  nervous 
action,  and  (3.)  the  conscious  sensation.  The  suggestion, 
however,  is  made,- that  there  may  be  something  interme- 
diate between  the  nervous  action  and  the  conscious  sen- 
sation. This  has  been  variously  named,  as  unconscious 
sensation,  latent  mental  modification,  sub-conscious  mental 
state,  etc.  The  first  of  these  is  a  psychological  contradic- 
tion, and  is  unconditionally  to  be  rejected.  The  doctrine  at 
this  point  is  intelligible  only  as  a  claim  that  the  immediate 
effect  of  the  nervous  action  is  to  produce  a  series  of  affec- 
tions of  the  soul,  which  are  not  revealed  in  consciousness, 
but  which  may  rise  into  consciousness,  or  which  may  be 
the  stimulus  to  the  soul  to  react  with  proper  sensation. 
"We  must  be  careful,  however,  not  to  give  these  affections 
any  of  the  names  which  imply  consciousness.  They  can 
only  be  regarded  as  metaphysical  states  of  the  soul,  and  as 
having  no  more  mental  character  than  the  metaphysical 
states  of  energy  in  an  atom.  There  may  well  be  uncon- 
scious activities  of  the  soul  in  connection  with  the  body. 


62  PSYCHOLOGY. 

If  we  ascribe  to  the  soul  any  formative  and  directive  in- 
fluence upon  the  body,  we  must  admit  that  this  is  below 
consciousness.  With  respect  to  it  the  soul  is  simply 
a  thing  with  power,  not  a  conscious  self.  Our  present 
inquiry  concerns  simply  the  question  whether  we  need 
assume  such  unconscious  states  in  the  interaction  which 
mediates  sensation  and  perception. 

Various  arguments  are  offered  in  favor  of  the  view :  — 

1.  It  is  said  to  mediate  the  passage  from  the  simplicity 
and  community  of  nervous  action,  considered  as  some  mode 
of  motion,  to  the  complete  unlikeness  of  different  classes  of 
sensations.     We  might  suppose  that  the  primary  effect  in 
the  soul  consists  in  some  simple  form  of  affection  corre- 
sponding to  the  simplicity  of  the  nerve  processes,  and  that 
sensations  of  different  classes  arise  from  varying  combina- 
tions of  this  basal  unit. 

This  consideration  has  no  value.  The  qualitative  differ- 
ences of  sensation  are  not  explained  by  such  a  common 
unit.  That  which  has  led  many  to  fancy  that  such  a  unit 
can  be  found  is  the  fact  that  many  of  our  sensations  along 
with  their  qualitative  content  have  sundry  attendants  of 
feeling,  and  these  may  show  a  certain  likeness,  yet  without 
in  any  way  showing  a  common  factor  in  their  peculiar  con- 
tent. In  any  case,  such  simple,  unconscious  affections  in 
the  soul  seem  no  better  adapted  to  explain  the  conscious, 
qualitatively  different  sensations,  than  the  nervous  action 
itself.  Somewhere  the  transition  must  be  made  from  un- 
consciousness to  consciousness,  and  from  likeness  to  unlike- 
ness ;  we  should  not  delude  ourselves  with  intermediaries, 
which  only  seem  to  help,  and  really  hinder. 

2.  A  better  argument  lies  in  the  following  facts.     The 
physical  antecedents  of  sensation  are  often  present,  yet  no 
sensation  results.    In  the  abstraction  of  study  we  lose  sight 
of  the  external  world.     In  the  heat  of  passion  or  excite- 
ment we  may  receive  great  physical  injury  without  knowing 


SENSATION.  63 

it.  We  must,  however,  suppose  that  the  physical  causes 
produced  their  proper  mental  effects ;  and,  as  these  did  not 
rise  into  consciousness,  they  must  have  remained  below  it 
as  a  latent  mental  state. 

Most  of  the  facts  of  this  kind  are  exaggerated.  Con- 
sciousness has  many  grades  of  intensity ;  and  no  fact  is 
brought  out  into  clear  consciousness  without  a  certain 
amount  of  attention,  and  a  focusing  of  our  intellect  upon 
it.  In  this  respect  consciousness  is  like  the  eye ;  there  is 
one  spot  of  clear  vision.  The  most  of  these  so-called  un- 
conscious experiences  lie  in  this  field  of  indefinite,  or  undis- 
criminated, consciousness,  rather  than  in  a  sub-conscious 
realm.  At  the  time,  they  have  no  interest  for  us,  and  are 
neglected  in  proportion  to  their  indifference. 

Allowing,  however,  that  no  mental  effect  whatever  can 
be  observed,  the  conclusion  rests  on  an  assumption  which 
may  be  questioned.  In  theoretical  mechanics  we  assume 
that  «very  force  will  have  its  full  effect,  as  well  in  a  crowd 
as  when  acting  alone.  If  two  forces,  a  and  b,  act  upon  an 
element,  c,  successively  or  together,  they  will  bring  the  ele- 
ment to  the  same  point.  How  far  this  assumption  is  valid 
for  all  interaction  is  beyond  knowledge.  Yet  the  argu- 
ment in  the  present  case  rests  on  the  assumption  that  an 
external  stimulus  must  produce  its  full  nervous  effect,  no 
matter  what  the  condition  of  the  nervous  system,  and  that 
the  nervous  action,  in  turn,  must  produce  its  full  mental 
effect,  no  matter  what  the  state  of  mind.  The  first  part  of 
this  assumption  we  know  to  be  false  in  many  cases.  The 
same  stimulus  produces  quite  different  results,  according 
to  the  state  of  the  nervous  system.  It  is,  therefore,  quite 
conceivable  that  nerves  reverberating  with  passion  or  emo- 
tion should  not  respond  to  a  physical  hurt  with  their  accus- 
tomed reaction. 

The  second  part  of  the  assumption  is  equally  doubtful. 
The  only  results  of  nervous  action  upon  the  mind  which 


64  PSYCHOLOGY. 

we  can  estimate  are  the  conscious  results ;  and  these  we 
know  do  vary  with  the  state  of  mind,  the  interest,  the  pre- 
occupation, the  amount  of  attention,  etc.  But  since  we 
must  allow  this  fact  somewhere  along  the  line  of  mental 
effects,  we  may  as  well  put  it  at  the  entrance  to  the  mind, 
and  say  that  the  effect  of  nervous  action  is  conditioned  by 
the  mental  state.  This  is  no  more  difficult  a  conception 
than  the  opposite,  that  the  effect  of  nervous  action  is  an 
invariable  series  of  latent  states,  but  that  the  effect  of  these 
states  is  conditioned  by  the  conscious  state.  If  attention 
is  able  to  intensify  a  sensational  state,  intense  preoccupa- 
tion might  be  able  to  prevent  it  altogether.  The  claim  to 
remember  events  of  which  we  were  unconscious  at  the 
time,  which  is  often  made  in  connection  with  events  imme- 
diately preceding,  is  either  a  case  of  the  exaggeration  men- 
tioned above,  or  is  based  on  the  echo  of  the  nerve  process 
which  has  not  yet  died  away. 

3.  The  existence  of  sub-conscious  states  is  further  argued 
from  facts  like  the  following :  — 

a.  Any  antecedent  of  sensation  can  be  divided  into  an 
indefinite  number  of  elements,  either  of  extension  or  of  in- 
tensity ;  and  the  antecedent  itself  must  be  regarded  as  the 
sum  of  these  components.     Hence,  each  component  must 
produce  a  certain  effect,  as  otherwise  the  whole  would  have 
no  effect.     But  we  are  not  conscious  of  these  component 
effects,  but  only  of  their  resultant.     Hence,  the  conscious 
state  must  be  viewed  as  the  outcome  of  other  states  below 
consciousness. 

b.  Again,  a  single  beat  regularly  produced  appears  as  a 
succession  of  beats  as  long  as  the  rate  of  recurrence  falls 
below  a  certain  standard.     When  the  recurrence  is  more 
frequent,  that  which  was  perceived  as  a  series  of  beats  is 
heard  as  a  fine-grained  musical  note,  in  which  all  hint  of 
the  components  disappear ;  and  yet  they  are  really  there, 
but  below  consciousness. 


.  SENSATION.  65 

c.  Again,  white  light  is  composed  of  several  primary 
colors,  each  of  which  must  have  its  full  effect  in  conscious- 
ness, but  all  of  which  are  fused  into  the  one  sensation  of 
white  light. 

We  consider  these  arguments  in  order. 

1.  Argument  a  rests  on  the  assumption  that  each  minut- 
est intensity  of  action  in  a  sensory  nerve  must  have  a  cor- 
respondingly minute  mental  effect.     This  is  a  questionable 
transference  of  a  physical  doctrine  to  an  entirely  different 
realm,  and  one  which  a  consideration  of  the  facts  makes 
highly  doubtful.     The  connection  of  the   physical  series 
with  the  mental  series,  viewed  from  the  causal  standpoint, 
is  purely  arbitrary.     We  can  see  no  reason  why  one  form 
of  motion  rather  than  another  should  be  attended  with 
sensation.     It  would  be  nothing  more  surprising  if  it  were 
found  that  only  certain  intensities  of  nervous  action  are 
attended  by  sensation.     In  that  case,  nervous  action,  which 
falls  below  a  certain  degree  of  intensity,  would  not  produce 
latent  mental   modifications,  but  would   have  no  mental 
effect  at  all.     If  it  be  said  that  this  view  introduces  an 
arbitrary  break  of  continuity,  the  answer  must  be  that  no 
theory  can  escape  such  a  break.     Even  the  theory  which 
regards  thought  as  the  inner  face  of  nervous  movements 
cannot  tell  why  a  given  movement,  say  an  oscillation  in 
an  elliptical  orbit,  should  be  attended  by  thought,  while 
another,  say  a  rectilinear  vibration,  should  not  be  thus 
attended. 

2.  Argument  b  rests  on  the  assumption  that  the  peculi- 
arities of  the  physical  cause  must  reappear  on  the  mental 
side.     If  the  antecedent  is  a  series  of  waves,  the  conse- 
quent also  must  be  a  series  of  shocks,  and  the  conscious 
effect  can  only  be  the  integral  of  those   shocks.     Here, 
again,  is  an  extremely  doubtful  physical  analogy.     Consid- 
ering the  unlikeness  of  the  physical  and  mental  series,  and 
the  arbitrary  nature  of  their  connection  in  general,  it  is 

5 


66  PSYCHOLOGY. 

impossible  to  form  any  rational  expectation  as  to  what 
mental  consequent  shall  attend  a  given  physical  ante- 
cedent. Whether  it  shall  be  as  coarse-grained  as  the 
antecedent,  or  an  absolute  continuum,  must  be  decided  by 
observation  of  experience.  Moreover,  we  know  that  sounds 
do  not  tend  to  fuse  in  consciousness,  but  remain  distinct. 
This  fact  is  the  basis  of  music.  Otherwise,  the  different 
tones  would  run  together,  and  all  relations  of  harmony 
would  disappear.  If,  then,  a  given  sensation  appear  as  a 
strict  continuum,  with  no  hint  of  its  discrete  antecedents, 
we  must  reject  the  alleged  discreteness  of  the  sensation 
until  the  fact  is  demonstrated.  Until  then,  we  shall  hold 
that  one  form  of  nervous  action  is  attended  by  discontin- 
uous sensations,  and  another  form  by  a  continuous  sen- 
sation ;  and  that,  in  passing  from  one  to  the  other,  the 
discontinuous  do  not  remain  and  fuse  into  the  continuous, 
but  that  the  discontinuous  vanish  and  the  continuous  takes 
their  place. 

Otherwise  expressed,  suppose  a,  b,  c,  d  are  a  series  of 
sensations  which,  under  changed  nervous  conditions,  are 
displaced  by  a  new  sensation,  M.  How  is  this  to  be  inter- 
preted ?  We  may  suppose  that  a,  b,  c,  d  are  the  mental 
accompaniment  of  the  nervous  state  R,  and  that  Mis  the 
mental  accompaniment  of  the  nervous  state  S.  In  that 
case  there  would  be  no  passage  of  one  mental  state  into 
another,  but  a. displacement  of  one  by  another  owing  to  a 
change  in  the  external  ground.  This  is  the  view  above 
suggested ;  and  if  the  antecedent  sensation  were  single,  it 
would  be  accepted  at  once.  When  two  different  notes  are 
sounded  successively,  it  never  occurs  to  us  to  regard  the 
second  as  a  transformation  of  the  first ;  we  rather  regard 
each  as  the  mental  effect  appropriate  to  its  physical  ante- 
cedent. But  when  the  antecedents  are  plural  and  there  is 
no  break  of  temporal  continuity,  then  we  think  this  view 
insufficient. 


SENSATION.  67 

Let  us  take,  then,  the  other  view,  and  see  if  it  meets  the 
purpose  of  its  invention,  a,  £>,  c,  d  are  antecedent  sensa- 
tions, whose  conscious  effect  is  M.  If,  however,  they  are 
truly  latent  mental  states,  M  can  be  explained  only  by  sup- 
posing a,  5,  c,  d  so  to  act  upon  the  mind  as  to  cause  it  to 
produce  in  itself  the  conscious  sensation  M.  .  But  in  that 
case  it  is  impossible  to  see  what  advantage  a,  J,  e,  d  would 
have  over  the  nervous  changes  themselves.  These  might 
have  as  their  direct  resultant  M,  as  well  as  the  series  a,  b, 
c,  d  ;  and  the  series  would  be  a  useless  intermediary. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  a,  6,  c,  d  fuse  into  M,  this  is  only 
a  figurative  way  of  saying  that  a,  5,  <?,  d  exist  no  longer  as 
either  conscious  or  unconscious  mental  states,  and  that  M 
alone  exists.  An  implicit  hypostasis  of  mental  states  leads 
us  to  fancy  that  their  substance  must  flow  together,  as  in 
all  fusion,  to  make  the  compound.  If  it  be  said  that  a,  5, 
c,  d  are  M,  as  the  elements  of  a  molecule  are  the  molecule, 
this  is  another  misapplied  physical  analogy,  and  supposes 
sensations  to  be  things.  Further,  it  is  an  attack  upon  con- 
sciousness, as  it  violently  identifies  what  is  given  as  distinct. 
It  would  declare,  for  example,  that  the  coexistent  sensations 
of  the  several  colors  of  the  spectrum  are  the  sensation  of 
white  light.  If,  finally,  it  be  said  that  an  analysis  of  M 
reveals  a,  6,  c,  d  as  constituent  elements,  that  only  shows 
that  they  may  exist  out  of  definite  consciousness,  not  that 
they  exist  out  of  all  consciousness.  In  short,  the  simplicity 
or  complexity  of  a  sensation  can  never  be  decided  by 
apriori  assumptions  concerning  the  way  the  physical  ante- 
cedents must  work,  but  only  by  analyzing  the  sensation  as 
found  in  consciousness.  This  desire  to  trace  the  peculiari- 
ties of  the  physical  cause  into  the  mental  effect  has  led  to 
much  absurd  dictation  as  to  what  we  may  experience. 
Thus  black  is  no  color ;  cold  is  a  negation,  etc.  Psycho- 
logically, however,  they  are  as  positive  as  any  other  sen- 
sations. 


68  PSYCHOLOGY. 

3.  Argument  c  overlooks  entirely  the  fact  that  the  com- 
position mentioned  may  take  place  in  the  nerves  rather 
than  in  the  mind.  Indeed,  the  very  experiment  relied  on 
proves  this.  When  a  disk  on  which  the  primary  colors  are 
painted  in  proper  order  is  made  to  revolve  rapidly,  a  sen- 
sation of  whitish  light  is  produced.  "When  the  disk  is  at 
rest,  or  is  instantaneously  illuminated  by  the  electric  spark, 
there  is  no  blending  of  colors.  This  shows  that  the  blend- 
ing does  not  take  place  in  the  mind,  but  in  the  nerves.  No 
inspection  of  the  color-spectrum  reveals  the  slightest  ten- 
dency towards  fusion.  But  when  the  spectrum  is  in  rapid 
motion  the  nerves  receive  a  variety  of  impulses  which, 
modifying  one  another,  produce  the  resultant  nervous  state 
which  founds  the  sensation  of  white  light.  We  know  that 
consciousness  keeps  sensations  separate  after  they  have 
once  arisen ;  and  we  know  that  nervous  impulses  can 
modify  each  other.  There  is  no  need,  therefore,  to  assume 
a  series  of  unconscious  mental  states  to  account  for  the 
composition.  The  known  laws  of  nervous  action  suffice 
for  that ;  and,  in  addition,  the  mental  state  is  not  a  com- 
pounded one.  It  is  in  itself  as  simple  as  any  of  its  alleged 
components;  and  just  as  each  of  them  is  the  mental  at- 
tendant of  a  certain  nervous  state,  so  it  is  the  mental 
attendant  of  a  certain  other  nervous  slate. 

This  matter  may  be  summed  up  as  follows.  The  primal 
elements  of  the  interaction  between  soul  and  body  are 
unknown.  It  may  be  that  the  conscious  sensation  is  the 
immediate  reaction  of  the  soul  against  the  nervous  action  ; 
and  it  may  be  that  the  first  effect  of  the  nervous  action  is 
a  change  in  the  organic  activity  of  the  soul,  and  that  the 
conscious  sensation  is  a  reaction  against  this  change,  or 
an  expression  of  it.  But  while  we  do  not  deny  that  there 
may  be  such  sub-conscious  activities  in  connection  with 
sensation,  the  facts  thus  far  considered  do  not  compel  their 
assumption.  If  they  are  assumed,  it  must  be  on  the  basis 


SENSATION.  69 

of  other  facts,  especially  of  forgetfulness  and  reproduction. 
These  will  be  considered  in  their  proper  place.  Hence  we 
draw  the  conclusion  that  the  assumption  of  intermediate 
affections  between  the  nervous  action  and  the  felt  sensation 
is  unnecessary.  It  is  based  upon  doubtful  physical  analo- 
gies and  ambiguous  facts,  and,  worst  of  all,  it  helps  us  to 
no  solution  whatever.  But  it  is  an  obvious  principle  of 
method,  that  useless  and  unverifiable  hypotheses  must  be 
avoided.  Hence  it  cannot  be  the  duty  of  the  psychologist 
to  prove  that  these  states  do  not  exist.  It  is  rather  the 
duty  of  the  theorist  to  show  that  they  do  exist,  and  that 
they  throw  any  light  upon  our  problems. 

Closely  akin  to  this  question  is  another,  concerning  the 
simplicity  of  our  sensations.  For  various  reasons,  partly 
speculative  and  partly  partisan,  the  claim  has  been  set  up 
that  none  of  our  sensations  are  simple,  but  admit  of  reso- 
lution into  component  elements.  In  this  way  it  was  sought 
to  bring  the  apparently  incommensurable  classes  of  sen- 
sation together,  so  as  to  exhibit  them  as  multiples  of 
some  common  unit.  Here  the  speculative  interest  was 
active.  The  hope  was  also  entertained,  that  by  such 
a  showing  the  resources  of  the  associational  psychology 
might  be  greatly  increased.  Here  the  partisan  interest 
was  apparent. 

The  value  of  this  view  can  best  be  determined  by  ana- 
lyzing it.  We  need  to  know,  first  of  all,  whether  the  aim 
is  to  analyze  sensations  into  conscious,  or  unconscious  com- 
ponents. In  the  latter  case,  we  should  have  the  view  just 
discussed ;  and  then  we  should  be  quite  at  a  loss  to  see 
how  unconscious  elements  can  be  combined  to  form  a  con- 
scious sensation.  One  might  as  well  aim  to  construct  a 
sound  out  of  a  pair  of  silences.  The  only  claim  that  could 
be  made  would  be,  that,  when  the  mind  performs  uncon- 
sciously certain  functions,  its  nature  demands  that  it  should 
perform  a  certain  conscious  function  as  a  consequence. 


70  PSYCHOLOGY. 

But  this  would  be  far  enough  from  a  doctrine  of  composi- 
tion of  sensations. 

If,  however,  the  aim  is  to  analyze  our  sensations  into 
conscious  elements,  then,  of  course,  the  alleged  elements 
must  be  pointed  out.  If  a  common  element  is  alleged  to 
exist,  we  need  to  know  how  out  of  this  unit  such  apparently 
incommensurable  classes  are  built  up.  We  also  need  to 
know  whether  the  elements  are  fused  to  form  the  com- 
pound, or  whether  the  elements  exist  in  the  compound.  If 
the  fusion  hypothesis  be  adopted,  we  must  then  decide  what 
such  fusion  means,  and  how  it  would  differ  from  the  simple 
disappearance  of  the  elementary  sensations,  and  their  re- 
placement by  a  new  and  different  sensation.  If  we  adopt 
the  other  view,  we  then  have  to  say  that  a  given  sensation, 
say  white  light,  is  the  sum  of  the  sensations  of  comple- 
mentary colors.  But  this  identification  is  impossible,  and 
we  are  thrown  back  upon  the  view  that  one  set  of  sensa- 
tions disappears  and  is  replaced  by  a  new  sensation  which 
contains  no  trace  of  its  antecedents.  In  proof  of  the  doc- 
trine of  composition,  it  is  said  that  a  musical  tone  seems 
perfectly  simple  and  yet  is  demonstrably  compound.  But 
here,  too,  we  need  to  distinguish  between  the  composite 
nature  of  the  physical  antecedents  and  the  composition  of 
the  tone  itself ;  and  we  need  also  to  distinguish  between 
the  fact  that  a  simple  tone  may  have  several  distinguish- 
able elements,  and  the  claim  that  these  elements  first  exist 
as  distinct  sensations  and  are  then  fused  into  an  appar- 
ently simple  tone.  When  these  points  are  all  considered, 
the  analysis  in  question  will  seem  neither  so  easy  nor  so 
promising. 

Let  us  state  the  question  in  a  new  form.  Suppose  that 
a,  b,  c,  d  are  elementary  sensations  which  give  rise  to 
M,  a  new  sensation.  M  may  coexist  with  a,  5,  c,  d ;  and 
then  the  latter  would  not  be  the  components  of  M,  but  its 
conditions.  Or  a,  b,  c,  d  may  disappear  from  conscious- 


SENSATION.  71 

ness,  and  M  may  take  their  place.  In  this  case  we  may 
say  that  a,  6,  <?,  d  have  fused  into  M;  but  this  would  be 
only  a  figure  of  speech.  Or  we  may  say  that  a,  b,  c,  d  are 
M;  but  this 'would  be  false.  It  only  remains  that  we 
say  that  a,  6,  c,  d  are  conditions  against  which  the  mind 
reacts  by  producing  the  new  sensation  M.  This  does  not 
contain  a,  &,  c,  d,  and  is  not  made  out  of  a,  6,  c,  <tf,  but 
arises  under  the  conditions  <z,  6,  c,  d.  But  in  order  to  this 
there  must  be  a  specific  mental  nature,  IV,  which  contains 
the  ground  of  the  new  reaction,  M ;  otherwise  there  is  no 
reason  for  going  beyond  the  original  a,  £>,  c,  d. 

Indeed,  psychology  has  been  haunted  at  this  point  by  an 
implicit  hypostasis  of  sensations.  They  have  been  tacitly 
viewed  as  self-identical  things,  or  as  mental  atoms,  which 
may  enter  into  a  great  variety  of  mental  molecules,  thus 
producing  new  mental  states  and  forms  while  at  the  same 
tinie  they  remain  self-identical  and  never  leave  the  plane 
of  their  own  sensational  nature.  In  this  way  the  higher 
mental  states  have  been  exhibited  as  compounded  from 
sensations,  and  there  has  been  an  appearance  of  striking 
and  profound  analysis.  Meanwhile,  the  hypostasizing  ten- 
dency of  the  mind  plays  its  most  transparent  trick  with 
us.  In  truth,  sensations  are  not  things,  but  functions  ;  and 
their  union  can  only  mean  the  replacement  of  one  function 
by  another.  In  that  case  the  one  function  disappears  with- 
out leaving  any  substantial  remainder,  and  another  func- 
tion takes  its  place,  yet  without  being  made  out  of  any 
stuff  left  over  from  its  predecessor.  Indeed,  even  in  the 
physical  world  the  composition  of  forces  does  not  involve 
a  fusion  of  several  forces  into  one,  except  in  a  figurative 
sense,  or  a  continuance  of  the  components  in  the  resultant, 
but  a  replacement  of  the  component  forces  by  a  new  one 
distinct  from  them  all,  but  dynamically  equivalent.  The 
chief  art  in  analyzing  our  apparently  simple  sensations  into 
simpler  elements  seems  to  consist  in  misapplying  niisun- 


72  PSYCHOLOGY. 

derstood  physical  analogies,  together  with  sundry  disjointed 
remarks  on  the  short-comings  of  the  introspective  method. 
At  all  events,  it  does  seem  desirable  to  distinguish  between 
the  complexity  of  the  physical  cause  and  that  of  the  men- 
tal effect,  and  between  the  succession  of  mental  functions 
and  their  substantial  identity. 

Each  class  of  sensations,  especially  the  intellectual  ones, 
furnishes  a  subject  for  extended  study.  Such  works  as 
Helmholtz's  "  Sensations  of  Tone  "  and  "  Physiological  Op- 
tics," and  Weber's  "  Studies  of  Touch,"  are  examples  of 
what  may  be  done  in  this  field.  But  such  work,  though 
highly  interesting  and  valuable,  reveals  no  new  psycho- 
logical principles,  but  only  specifies  those  witli  which  we 
are  already  acquainted. 

We  pass  to  a  second  factor  in  mental  activity,  the 
mechanism  of  reproduction. 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  73 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION. 

A  LAEGE  and  influential  school  of  psychologists  hold 
that  simple  sensibility  is  the  only  original  faculty  of  the 
mind.  When  sensations  are  produced,  they  enter  into 
interaction  with  one  another,  and  form  various  combi- 
nations according  to  certain  laws.  Given  sensations  and 
their  laws  of  interaction,  we  may  deduce  all  the  so-called 
higher  mental  faculties  as  consequences  of  these  simple 
facts  and  principles.  This  fact  makes  it  desirable  to  con- 
sider the  mechanism  of  reproduction  at  this  point.  The 
results  reached  will  be  valid  for  the  reproduction  of  all 
mental  states,  as  well  as  for  sensations. 

Upon  the  cessation  of  nervous  action,  the  corresponding 
sensation  quickly  vanishes,  yet  without  being  utterly  lost. 
It  is  possible  to  retain  or  to  reproduce  the  sensation  in 
thought  without  the  presence  of  the  original  stimulus.  In 
some  sense,  then,  past  sensations,  though  out  of  conscious- 
ness, do  still  exist.  According  to  some  they  exist  as  la- 
tent, or  sub-conscious,  mental  modifications ;  according  to 
others,  they  exist  as  more  or  less  permanent  modifications 
of  the  brain. 

These  reproduced  sensations,  which  we  may  call  repre- 
sentations, differ  widely  from  their  originals.  The  logical 
content  is  the  same,  but  the  sensibility  is  differently  af- 
fected. Remembered  pain  or  pleasure  has  the  same  sig- 
nificance for  the  intellect  as  real  pain  or  pleasure  ;  but  for 
the  sensibility  the  difference  is  absolute.  There  is  an  air 
of  reality  about  the  original  experience  which  the  recollec- 
tion never  has.  The  lightest  actual  rustle  is  more  vivid 


74  PSYCHOLOGY. 

than  the  memory  of  the  loudest  noise.  A  slight  pain  dis- 
tresses more  than  the  remembrance  of  agonies.  This  dif- 
ference is  most  easily  explained  hy  supposing  that  the 
recollection  is  only  a  mental  act,  while  the  original  sen- 
sation had  its  external  ground.  The  same  distinction  of 
vividness  obtains  between  all  actual  and  remembered  men- 
tal states  when  any  element  of  emotion  or  external  percep- 
tion entered  into  the  original  experience.  Where,  however, 
the  original  experience  was  one  of  logical  thinking  simply, 
it  can  be  repeated  without  loss  of  vividness.  The  antithesis 
of  faint  and  vivid  mental  states,  as  expressing  the  distinc- 
tion between  a  remembered  and  an  original  experience,  is, 
therefore,  not  absolute. 

Our  mental  states,  sensational  or  otherwise,  do  not  lie 
unrelated  in  the  mind,  but  combine  into  groups  and  classes 
according  to  certain  rules,  so  that  they  suggest  or  recall 
one  another.  A  given  experience,  A,  can  recall  another, 
B,  like  it,  or  which  has  been  experienced  in  connection 
with  it.  The  spoken,  or  written,  word  recalls  the  meaning ; 
an  odor  suggests  the  flower,  etc.  In  this  way  simple  rep- 
resentations are  combined  into  compound  representations ; 
and  any  element  of  the  compound  tends  to  recall  the  whole. 
Our  notions  of  sense-objects  are  all  compound  representa- 
tions ;  yet  so  swift  and  subtle  is  the  work  of  association 
that  the  fact  is  quite  overlooked.  A  given  sense  is  shut  up 
to  a  single  form  of  sensation.  Vision  gives  us  only  per- 
cepts of  color.  Touch  gives  us  only  percepts  of  hardness, 
resistance,  etc.  Smell  can  give  nothing  but  odor.  There 
was  a  point  in  our  mental  life  when  these  several  percepts 
were  not  united;  now  they  are  so  firmly  united  that  we 
can  hardly  believe  that  they  were  ever  separate.  In  like 
manner,  the  spoken  or  written  word  suggests  the  meaning 
so  surely  and  involuntarily,  that  we  seem  to  hear  and 
see  the  very  thought  itself.  If  there  were  not  many  lan- 
guages, it  would  doubtless  be  contended  that  there  is  a 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  75 

pre-established  harmony  between  the  sound  and  the  sense. 
Such  union  we  call  an  association.  It  rests  upon  no 
rational  connection.  There  is  nothing  in  any  one  of  the 
senses  which  implies  that  the  other  senses  must  exist. 
There  is  nothing  in  a  given  sound  which  fits  it  to  express 
only  a  certain  idea.  The  connection  is  purely  one  of  fact. 
The  elements  have  been  associated  in  experience,  and  tend 
on  that  account  to  recall  one  another.  Hence  the  senses 
seem  to  act  vicariously.  In  perception  any  sense  seems 
to  give  us  the  entire  thing.  "We  see  the  color,  or  smell 
the  odor,  or  even  hear  the  name  ;  and  the  whole  thing 
seems  to  stand  before  us.  The  component  elements  have 
been  welded  into  a  group,  and  thenceforth  they  belong 
together.  This  fact  is  called  the  association  of  ideas, — 
where  ideas  stand  for  any  mental  state  whatever.  "We 
postpone  further  description  of  -the  fact,  and  pass  to  con- 
sider the  theories  for  its  explanation. 

Two  classes  of  theories  exist.  One  finds  the  mechanism 
of  reproduction  in  the  organism,  especially  in  the  brain ; 
the  other  finds  it  in  the  mind  itself.  And  since  the  repro- 
duction and  association  of  ideas  are  mental  facts,  in  most 
cases  without  any  assignable  p'hysical  stimulus,  it  is  plain 
that  the  mental  explanation  must  have  precedence  of  the 
physical,  unless  it  be  found  untenable.  Psychology  must 
not  have  recourse  to  physiology  until  its  own  resources  fail. 
We  begin,  then,  with  the  mental  theory  of  reproduction. 

Our  ideas  come  and  go  in  consciousness  without  the 
presence  of  the  original  stimulus,  and  acco  ding  to  laws 
of  their  own.  To  explain  this  fact,  a  highly  complex 
mental  mythology  has  been  invented.  In  its  coarser  forms 
the  mythological  character  is  too  evident  to  need  more  than 
mention;  for  example,  that  consciousness  has  a  certain 
size,  and  that  hence  many  ideas  cannot  find  room  in  it,  as 
if  they  themselves  were  extended,  and  impenetrable,  and 
crowded  one  another  out,  —  all  this  is  too  plainly  a  figure 


76  PSYCHOLOGY. 

of  speech  to  need  examination.  The  same  is  true  for  the 
expressions  which  present  consciousness  as  a  kind  of  light, 
which,  falling  upon  ideas,  enables  the  mind  to  see  them, 
but  which,  when  spread  over  many  ideas,  grows  less  and 
less  intense,  and  finally  leaves  outlying  ideas  in  a  kind  of 
outer  darkness.  Such  notions  arise  from  the  effort  of  the 
imagination  to  picture  a  process  which  is  essentially  un- 
picturable.  The  most  distinguished  effort  toward  a  theory 
of  reproduction  is  that  of  Herbart. 

According  to  Herbart,  a  simple  sensation  is  a  reaction  of 
the  soul  against  external  action,  and  is  called  by  him  an 
act  of  self-preservation.  Such  a  mental  function  is  in  its 
nature  indestructible ;  and  if  it  were  not  interfered  with, 
it  would  last  forever ;  that  is,  it  is  subject  to  the  law  of 
inertia.  But  many  such  functions  exist ;  and  these,  because 
of  the  unity  of  the  soul,  must  enter  into  interaction.  They 
are  then  conceived  as  endowed  with  forces  whereby  they 
act  upon  one  another,  and  re-enforce  or  repress  one  another. 
Consciousness  is  next  furnished  with  a  "  threshold,"  which 
represents  the  intensity  below  which  an  idea  is  lost  to  con- 
sciousness. When  the  intensity  of  the  function  is  above 
the  threshold,  the  idea  is  in  consciousness ;  when  below, 
the  idea  is  out  of  consciousness.  This  interaction  of  the 
ideas  results  in  their  passing  back  and  forth  across  the 
threshold ;  that  is,  in  and  out  of  consciousness.  In  this 
way,  both  the  passage  of  ideas  from  consciousness  and 
their  return  are  explained  by  the  same  process.  The  forces 
themselves  consist  in  the  opposition  of  the  ideas,  and  in 
their  intensity. 

This  view  is  constructed  entirely  on  the  analogy  of 
physical  mechanics,  and  more  especially  on  the  analogy 
of  molecular  mechanics.  The  representations,  or  persist- 
ent sensations,  are  regarded  as  the  units  of  the  mental 
life,  and  by  their  interaction  they  are  supposed  to  explain 
or  produce  all- the  higher  forms  of  the  mental  life.  We 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  77 

may  call  it,  then,  a  system  of  mental  mechanics,  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  term.  The  theory  has  the  gravest  diffi- 
culties, as  follows. 

1.  The  forces  by  which  the  ideas  are  said  to  act  upon 
one  another  are  imaginary  or  unintelligible.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  understand  either  the  opposition  or  the  intensity  of 
ideas  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them  adequate  to  the 
demands  made  upon  them.  Both  of  these  terms  may  be 
applied  to  the  ideas  as  having  a  certain  meaning,  or  to  the 
ideas  as  mental  acts.  The  former  would  be  their  logical, 
the  second  their  psychological  interpretation.  In  neither 
of  these  senses  can  they  be  made  to  do  what  they  are  sup- 
posed to  accomplish. 

Opposition  considered  as  the  logical  relation  of  the  con- 
tents of  ideas  is  no  psychological  force ;  and  ideas  do  not 
affect  each  other  according  to  such  a  law.  The  most 
diverse  ideas  logically  considered  show  no  psychological 
opposition ;  and  the  most  similar  show  no  tendency  to 
coalesce.  The  colors  of  the  spectrum  remain  separate, 
and  the  sounds  of  a  chorus  also.  The  most  contradictory 
ideas  can  be  conceived  with  the  utmost  ease,  provided  we 
do  not  attempt  to  identify  them  in  a  judgment.  Sour 
and  sweet,  round  and  square,  straight  and  crooked,  far 
and  near,  are  ideas  which  can  coexist  in  consciousness  in 
the  utmost  psychological  amity,  though  logically  hostile. 
Hence,  logical  opposition  counts  for  nothing  as  a  moving 
force  among  mental  states. 

The  opposition,  then,  must  be  psychological ;  but  this  is 
an  idea  hard  to  understand.  Thoughts  as  mental  acts  have 
none  of  the  qualities  which  belong  to  their  logical  contents ; 
for  example,  the  thought  of  the  circle  is  not  round,  nor 
is  that  of  sugar  sweet.  There  is  no  assignable  opposition 
between  the  activity  which  thinks  bitter  and  that  which 
thinks  sweet.  The  only  meaning  to  opposition  seems  to  be 
the  general  fact,  that  the  mind  cannot  perform  many  func- 


78  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tions  or  attend  to  many  objects  at  once,  and  hence  the 
performance  of  one  function  or  attention  to  one  group  of 
objects  excludes  the  performance  of  other  functions  or 
attention  to  other  objects.  But  this  fact  also  expresses 
no  moving  force  among  the  ideas  themselves,  and  also 
no  relation  of  the  ideas  to  one  another.  The  very  utmost 
that  such  opposition  among  ideas  would  accomplish,  would 
be  the  exclusion  of  many  ideas  from  consciousness  ;  it 
would  in  no  way  provide  for  their  return. 

Intensity  remains  to  be  considered ;  and  this  is  even 
a  darker  notion  than  opposition.  When  speaking  of  sen- 
sations, the  meaning  of  intensity  is  plain.  It  refers  to  the 
amount  of  disturbance  of  our  inner  state.  In  case  of  pains 
more  or  less  intense,  the  amount  of  inner  disturbance  is 
more  or  less.  But  intensity  has  no  clear  meaning  when 
applied  to  representations,  or  to  ideas  of  any  kind.  The 
intensity  of  the  sensations  themselves  disappears  entirely 
from  the  representations.  There  is  nothing  more  intense 
in  the  idea  of  a  loud  noise  than  in  the  idea  of  a  faint 
one.  Ideas  of  intensity  are  possible,  but  intense  ideas 
are  meaningless. 

Intensity  does  not  apply  to  the  content;  it  is  equally 
inapplicable  to  the  mental  act.  Suppose  we  conceive  a 
given  object,  A,  there  is  no  meaning  to  the  proposition  to 
jconceive  A  with  double  intensity.  If  the  object  were  a 
sensation,  we  should  find  that  such  an  attempt  resulted, 
not  in  representing  A  with  double  intensity,  but  rather  in 
representing  2  A.  Thus,  in  case  of  a  noise,  the  attempt 
to  remember  a  noise  more  intensely  would  really  result  in 
recalling  a  louder  noise.  In  short,  ideas  do  not  vary  in 
intensity  at  all,  but  rather  in  clearness  or  distinctness. 
Thus  a  triangle  may  be  conceived  as  three-sided,  and  then 
the  matter  is  at  an  end.  What  the  intense  representation 
of  a  triangle  might  be,  as  distinct  from  a  clear  one,  is 
past  all  finding  out.  We  can,  indeed,  have  a  more  or  less 


THE  MECHANISM   OF   REPRODUCTION.  79 

extensive  knowledge  about  a  triangle,  but  a  more  or  less 
intense  knowledge  is  nothing. 

Moreover,  the  clearness  has  no  meaning  when  applied 
to  the  simple  representations  with  which  Herbart  works. 
Thus,  an  unclear  representation  of  blue  would  always 
mean  a  representation  of  unclear  blue,  that  is,  a  blue 
bordering  on  some  other  color.  Hence  the  clearness  of 
a  simple  representation  also  admits  of  no  degrees.  When 
we  fancy  that  we  are  representing  a  simple  quality  with 
varying  degrees  of  clearness,  we  are  really  representing 
different  degrees  of  the  quality  itself.  As  for  the  clearness 
of  our  complex  ideas,  we  shall  find  hereafter  that  this  is  no 
property  of  the  ideas  themselves  as  mental  states,  but  ex- 
ists only  in  and  through  the  act  of  apprehension.  It  is  the 
comprehension  which  is  clear,  not  the  idea. 

We  conclude,  then,  that  neither  opposition  nor  intensity, 
in  whatever  sense  they  are  taken,  can  be  viewed  as  moving 
forces  among  mental  states.  Indeed,  if  we  are  to  find  such 
a  force  anywhere,  it  must  be  sought  in  a  realm  where  the 
Herbartian  is  forbidden  to  find  it.  Feeling  and  interest 
are  the  great  sources  of  the  power  of  an  idea  over  the 
current  of  thought.  That  line  of  thought  in  which  we 
are  interested  draws  all  others  away  and  wins  the  mind 
to  itself.  But  this  interest  is  no  quality  of  the  ideas,  but 
is  a  certain  value  which  the  mind  attaches  to  the  ideas  for 
the  time  being.  In  general,  it  is  highly  changeable,  varying 
with  the  health,  the  general  state  of  feeling,  the  time  of 
life,  and  a  great  variety  of  obscure  circumstances  besides. 

The  general  ambiguity  of  the  theory  deserves  further 
notice.  We  may  understand  by  idea  either  its  logical  con- 
tent, or  the  mental  activity  by  which  it  exists.  But  we 
cannot  posit  forces  in  the  ideas  in  the  former  sense,  as  that 
would  make  them  things.  We  must  then  take  the  ideas  in 
the  latter  sense,  and  regard '  their  interaction  as  taking 
place  among  a  series  of  psychical  functions,  rather  than 


80  PSYCHOLOGY. 

among  logical  conceptions.  The  functions  a,  5,  c,  d  pro- 
duce the  conscious  representations  A,  £,  C,  D;  but  the 
interaction  is  only  among  a,  #,  c,  d.  We  have  just  seen 
that  the  forces  which  Herbart  attributes  to  the  ideas  are 
unmanageable  in  either  case.  Opposition  has  meaning  only 
for  J.,  B,  (7,  D ;  and  intensity  has  no  meaning.  Intensity, 
again,  has  meaning  only  for  a,  5,  c,  d  ;  and  opposition  has 
no  meaning.  Nor  is  any  mechanical  representation  of  the 
relations  of  a,  5,  c,  d  possible.  First,  there  is  no  assigna- 
ble way  of  keeping  them  separate.  When  several  impulses, 
x,  y,  z,  are  communicated  to  the  same  body,  M,  they  unite 
in  a  common  resultant,  R,  in  which  x,  y,  and  z  no  longer 
exist.  If  we  should  suppose  them  to  persist  as  separate 
impulses,  and  should  next  endow  them  with  attractions  and 
repulsions  for  one  another,  we  should  have  precisely  the 
problem  in  hand.  And  after  we  have  thus  isolated  a,  5, 
c,  d,  and  have  endowed  them  with  utterly  unrepresentable 
forces,  we  have  next  to  consider  whether  we  have  not  made 
them  into  things,  and  have  not  cancelled  the  unity  of  the 
mental  subject  itself.  We  are  no  better  off  if  we  regard 
them,  not  as  actual  functions,  but  only  as  tendencies  to  per- 
form functions ;  for  it  is  equally  impossible  to  explain  the 
separateness  of  the  tendencies  and  the  possibility  of  their 
interaction.  In  short,  there  can  be  no  mechanical  repre- 
sentation without  the  spatial  separation  and  substantial 
nature  of  the  interacting  elements.  Where  these  are  lack- 
ing, mechanical  terms  are  simply  figures  of  speech. 

In  addition,  it  might  be  pointed  out  that,  if  the  theory 
were  true,  the  movement  of  our  ideas  would  be  different 
from  what  it  is,  both  in  their  coming  and  their  going. 
Our  ideas  ought  to  vanish  through  an  indefinite  series  of 
degrees  of  faintness,  all  the  way  from  the  summit  of  con- 
sciousness down  to  the  threshold  ;  and  they  ought  to  recur 
strictly  in  their  ancient  form.  But  there  is  no  need  to 
dwell  on  this  point. 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  81 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  such  a  view  arises.  There  are 
movement  and  connection  among  our  ideas,  and  we  seek 
to  explain  the  facts.  When  several  ideas  are  given,  others 
are  excluded ;  or  when  several  ideas  have  been  conjoined 
in  experience,  thereafter  the  recurrence  of  any  one  often 
leads  to  the  recurrence  of  the  rest.  For  the  explanation 
of  these  facts,  promising  physical  analogies  abound.  Let 
us  endow  the  ideas  with  various  attractive  and  repulsive 
forces  ;  let  us  speak  freely  of  their  affinities  and  opposi- 
tions ;  and  the  problem  is  solved.  With  this  outfit  we  can 
see  the  ideas  beginning  to  interact,  so  as  to  re-enforce  or 
repress  one  another.  They  pass  back  and  forth  across  the 
threshold ;  simple  ideas  may  well  combine  into  complex 
ideas,  just  as  atoms  form  molecules  ;  and  the  evolution  of 
mental  heterogeneity  from  mental  homogeneity  is  well 
under  way.  Few  questions  longer  present  any  difficulty. 
Ideas  pass  out  of  consciousness,  because  opposing  ideas 
drive  them  across  the  threshold.  They  return  to  conscious- 
ness because  of  a  re-enforcement  of  energy  on  their  own 
side,  or  because  of  a  diminishing  energy  on  the  side  of 
their  opponents.  Association  is  accounted  for  by  affinity. 
A  and  B,  in  the  group  A  .5,  are  held  together  by  mutual 
attraction,  and  hence  it  is  perfectly  clear  why  B  should 
always  follow  the  appearance  of  A. 

But  the  joy  of  new  insight  must  not  prevent  us  from 
asking  whether  our  theory  is  to  be  taken  in  earnest,  or 
only  as  a  figurative  representation  of  an  unpicturable  fact. 
But  we  cannot  seriously  regard  our  theory  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  for  the  following  reasons  :  — 

1.  If  we  mean  by  ideas  their  logical  content,  we  must 
make  them  things ;  we  must  assume  that  they  can  exist 
out  of  consciousness  ;  and  we  must  view  reproduction  as  a 
literal  resurrection  of  the  old  experience. 

2.  If  we  mean  by  ideas  the  psychical  functions  which 
result  in  conscious  states,  we  are  totally  unable  to  name  or 

6 


82  PSYCHOLOGY.  • 

define,  or  in  any  way  represent,  the  forces  which  play 
among  them.  We  are  equally  unable  to  adjust  the  theory 
to  experience,  except  in  the  vaguest  way  ;  and  then  only 
because  we  have  constructed  it  with  reference  to  experi- 
ence. The  deduction  only  draws  out  what  we  put  in. 

It  is  plain  from  the  foregoing  that  our  mechanical  con- 
structions of  the  reproductive  process  are  failures.  All 
that  we  do  is  to  apply  the  terminology  of  mechanics  and 
dynamics  to  the  observed  movements  of  the  ideas,  without 
even  the  possibility  of  understanding  our  own  terms  in 
their  special  applications.  The  mechanical  terms  lead  us 
to  fancy  that  we  have  established  a  mental  dynamics, 
whereas  we  have  only  a  series  of  unintelligible  metaphors. 
If  we  resolutely  eschew  these,  we  are  left  simply  with  the 
fact  of  movement  and  connection  among  our  ideas.  This 
fact  must,  indeed,  have  its  sufficient  ground  and  explana- 
tion ;  but  it  does  not  admit  of  a  mechanical  construction 
after  the  manner  of  molecular  dynamics. 

The  English  associationalists  have  never  accepted  the 
Herbartian  ontology  ;  and  they  have  also  never  had  any 
clear  conception  of  their  own  position.  They  waver  between 
regarding  the  association  of  ideas  as  an  ultimate  fact,  and 
viewing  the  relations  of  contiguity,  similarity,  etc.  as  forces 
of  mental  cohesion  and  movement.  In  the  latter  case  all 
the  difficulties  of  the  Herbartian  theory  reappear.  This 
uncertainty  has  led  the  later  writers  of  this  school  largely 
to  adopt  the  physiological  explanation. 

The  dark  unpicturability  of  the  reproductive  process  on 
the  psychological  side,  the  near  approach  to  absurdity 
involved  in  the  doctrine  of  unconscious  ideas,  and  an  un- 
willingness to  leave  reproduction  unexplained,  have  led  to 
an  attempt  to  find  the  ground  of  reproduction  in  the  brain 
rather  than  in  the  mind  itself.  If  we  may  suppose  each  of 
our  ideas  to  have  some  physical  representative,  we  seem 
to  escape  many  of  the  difficulties  mentioned.  We  need 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  83 

no  longer  to  speak  of  unconscious  ideas,  for  that  which 
represents  the  ideas  when  out  of  consciousness  is  not  an 
unimaginable  mental  function,  but  a  distinct  physical  reprer 
sentative.  For  the  movement  and  coherence  of  our  ideas, 
also,  we  need  not  assume  any  unconstruable  forces  among 
the  ideas,  as  the  dynamic  relations  among  their  physical 
representatives  dispense  with  them  altogether.  Now  all 
is  clear  again.  What  appears  subjectively  as  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas  is  objectively  a  dynamic  relation  of  physical 
quantities.  This  theory  seems  so  promising  that  we  can- 
not but  be  filled  with  hope.  Indeed,  we  may  even  expect 
to  see  .thought  itself  going  on  apart  from  consciousness, 
as  the  outcome  of  this  "  unconscious  cerebration." 

This  theory  may  be  held  in  a  purely  materialistic  sense, 
and  indeed  it  has  been  largely  supported  by  materialistic 
assumptions.  In  this  sense  the  theory  is  repudiated  in 
advance.  But  it  may  also  be  held  in  connection  with  a 
spiritual  conception  of  the  soul.  Its  most  general  assump- 
tion is,  that  every  mental  state,  of  whatever  kind,  makes 
some  relatively  permanent  impression  on  the  brain,  which 
thus  becomes  a  register  of  experience.  This  impression 
is  variously  conceived,  as  a  tendency,  or  as  special  forms 
of  movement,  or  as  special  groupings  of  the  brain-cells. 
The  result  is,  that  the  brain  tends  to  repeat  its  past  forms 
of  activity,  thus  reproducing  the  past  mental  experience. 
This  is  the  basis  of  reproduction. 

The  general  dependence  of  reproduction  upon  the  brain 
may  be  conceived  in  two  ways.  First,  we  may  suppose 
that  the  brain  conditions  an  activity  of  the  mind  which  it 
does  not  itself  produce.  Second,  we  may  suppose  that  the 
recurrence  in  experience  of  ideas  due  to  a  re-excitation  of 
their  physical  ground  is  the  sum  of  reproduction.  The 
former  view  leaves  reproduction  a  psychical  process ;  the 
latter  makes  it  a  physiological  one.  This  is  the  view  in 
question. 


84  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Two  capital  difficulties  must  be  noticed  in  every  such 
theory :  — 

1.  It  provides  for  no  distinction  between  original  and 
recalled  experience.     The  same  parts  are  supposed  to  be 
active  in  memory  which  were  concerned  in  the   original 
experience,  and  withal  in  the  same  way.     Hence  a  memory 
ought  to  appear  as  a  faint  perception,  and  not  as  a  repro- 
duction of  something  before  experienced.      The  memory 
of  a  visual  object  ought  to  be  a  seeing  of  that  object ;  and 
that  not  merely  with  the  mind's  eye,  but  with  the  bodily 
eye  as  well.     The  theory  provides  only  for  faint  percep- 
tions and  vivid  perceptions,  but  not  for  the   distinction 
between  things  remembered  and  things  perceived. 

2.  The  theory  makes  no  provision  for  the  most  essential 
element   of  reproduction,  —  memory   or   recognition.     At 
the  very  best,  it  would  only  provide  for  the  recurrence  of 
similar  experiences,  but  not  for  their  recognition.     Repe- 
tition,  however,   is   not    memory.      Re-experience   is   not 
recognition.     If,  then,  the  brain  were  a  storehouse  of  ideas, 
and   should    continually   present  them  before   the    mind, 
there  would  be  nothing  to  suggest  to  the  mind  the  fact  of 
reproduction,  unless  the  mind  had  an  independent  power 
of  recognition  in  itself.    Just  as  a  person  with  a  very 
feeble  memory  might  read  the  same  book  over  and  over 
again  without  a  suspicion  of  the  repetition,  so  the  brain- 
register  alone  could  never  bring  us  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
past  unless  the  mind  had  in  itself  an  independent  power 
of  memory.     The  re-presentation  of  an  external  object  is 
plainly  not  identical  with  a  memory  of  that  object ;  and  it 
might  conceivably  take  place  forever  without  awakening 
the  latter.     But  the  ideas  supposed  to  be  re-presented  by 
the  brain-register  are  just  as  external  to  memory.     The  re- 
currence of  experience  is  not  the  experience  of  recurrence. 
The  latter  is  possible  only  to  the  mind  itself,  and  can  never 
be   done  for  it  by  anything  beyond  itself.     The  memo- 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  85 

randum  may  help  the  mind  to  recall ;  but  the  recollection 
must  at  last  be  the  act  of  the  mind  itself.  On  this  theory 
the  brain  would  be  the  organ  of  memory  in  the  same  sense 
that  a  memorandum-book  is  an  organ  of  memory. 

To  this  it  may  be  objected  that  a  reproduced  experience 
will  always  have  certain  marks  which  forbid  its  identifica- 
tion with  the  present  experience,  and  that,  therefore,  we 
must  locate  it  in  the  past  as  a  previous  experience.  But 
this  fails  to  meet  the  case.  Without  a  self-verifying  power 
of  memory  to  some  extent,  this  distinction  of  present  and 
past  experience  would  never  arise,  but  only  a  division  of 
experience  into  vivid  and  faint  states.  Without  a  direct 
knowledge  of  the  past,  these  faint  states  cannot  be  related 
to  the  past,  but  would  remain  a  special  form  of  present 
experience.  Of  course  all  these  states,  vivid  and  faint 
alike,  are  present  states.  Left  to  themselves  there  is  no 
hint  of  reproduction  in  them.  We  should  hardly  descend 
to  the  mythological  fancy  that  each  one  is  labelled  with  its 
date  ;  and  if  we  did,  we  should  next  need  some  mind  to  read 
the  dates  and  arrange  the  states  accordingly. 

It  appears,  then,  that  no  cerebral  theory  of  reproduction 
can  get  on  without  a  separate  power  of  reproduction  in  the 
mind  itself.  It  also  appears,  that  the  reproduction  possible 
to  the  cerebral  theory  becomes  proper  mental  reproduction 
only  through  the  action  of  the  mind  itself.  The  former  is 
so  far  from  explaining  the  latter,  that  it  becomes  known 
only  through  the  latter.  But  as  mental  reproduction  is 
the  fact  to  be  explained,  and  as  cerebral  reproduction  is 
only  an  hypothesis  for  its  explanation,  and  fails  withal  to 
meet  the  purpose  of  its  invention,  it  is  plain  that  the  latter 
has  no  further  reason  for  existence.  Physiology  means 
well,  and  is  doubtless  a  most  useful  and  estimable  science; 
but  in  this  case  psychology  must  decline  its  assistance,  of 
course  with  thanks  for  its  good  intentions. 

It  is  a  disappointment,  and  even  a  grief,  to  find  this 


86  PSYCHOLOGY. 

promising  theory  performing  so  little.  The  difficulties 
dwelt  upon  are  fatal,  even  if  the  cerebral  theories  were 
complete  in  all  other  respects ;  which  is  far  enough  from 
being  the  case.  But  we  postpone  consideration  of  their 
inner  mechanism  to  the  Appendix,  and  draw  here  only  the 
conclusion  that,  whatever  the  significance  of  the  brain  for 
memory  may  be,  it  does  not  consist  in  doing  the  mind's 
remembering.  This  is  one  of  the  elegant  conceptions  for 
which  psychology  is  indebted  to  the  "  objective  method." 
The  brain  is  the  organ  of  memory  in  the  same  sense  that 
it  is  the  organ  of  thought.  It  neither  thinks  nor  remem- 
bers ;  and  still  less  does  it  furnish  the  mind  with  ready- 
made  thoughts  and  recollections.  It  simply  supplies  the 
conditions  of  mental  activity  in  these  directions,  without 
being  in  any  way  able  to  produce  it. 

Both  the  physical  and  the  mental  theories  of  reproduc- 
tion fail  to  give  us  any  insight  into  the  facts.  Indeed,  this 
entire  department  of  psychology  has  been  devastated  by 
rhetoric :  and  our  theories  are  never  more  than  descrip- 
tions of  the  fact,  or  inferences  from  our  own  figures  of 
speech.  We  recall  the  past,  we  say ;  and  forthwith  we 
judge  that  it  must  have  been  somewhere  in  the  mind  ;  how 
else  could  it  be  recalled?  We  have  knowledge  of  many 
things  of  which  we  are  not  always  conscious ;  as  mathe- 
matics, science,  languages,  etc.  This  knowledge  is  said  to 
be  in  the  mind,  and,  when  it  is  not  in  consciousness,  where 
can  it  be  but  below  consciousness  ?  Then,  if  rhetorically 
inclined,  we  speak  of  memory's  vast  halls,  dim  chambers, 
niches  where  the  past  is  stored,  etc.  If  we  are  philo- 
sophical, and  desire  accuracy,  we  speak  of  latent,  or  sub- 
conscious, mental  states  as  the  forms  in  which  this 
knowledge  and  experience  in  general  exist.  Then  it  is 
the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  enrich  and  advance  psy- 
chology by  the  invention  of  faculties.  The  retention  of 
experience  certainly  implies  a  retentive  faculty.  Its  con- 


THE  MECHANISM   OF  REPRODUCTION.  87 

servation,  also,  is  impossible  without  a  conservative  faculty. 
Its  reproduction,  without  doubt,  demands  a  reproductive 
faculty.  Its  recognition,  of  course,  calls  for  a  recognizing 
faculty ;  and  the  location  of  an  event  in  the  temporal  series 
of  our  experience  must  be  due  to  a  locating  faculty.  It 
would  not  be  difficult  to  invent  several  more  faculties  if  the 
interests  of  the  science  called  for  them.  But  all  these 
faculties  are  plainly  abstractions  from  the  fact  to  be  ex- 
plained, and  do  not  advance  our  knowledge  in  the  least. 
Nor  are  we  any  better  off  when  we  appeal  to  mechanical 
physics.  The  facts  have  no  physical  analogue ;  and  the 
application  of  physical  analogies  only  misleads  us  by  an 
appearance  of  knowledge,  while  they  really  prevent  us  from 
perceiving  the  true  nature  of  the  facts.  All  that  is  pos- 
sible, therefore,  is  to  seek  some  expression  for  the  facts 
which  shall  give  them  without  distortion,  and  which  shall 
not  transcend  the  facts  themselves.  We  venture  the  fol- 
lowing statements :  — 

1.  Thoughts  and  mental  states  in  general  are  not  things, 
but  mental  acts  or  functions.     As  such,  they  exist  only  in 
and  through  the  activity  of  the  soul ;  and  when  the  soul's 
activity  is  directed  elsewhere,  voluntarily  or  involuntarily, 
they  cease  to  exist  anywhere,  either  in  consciousness  or  out 
of  it.     This  explains  the  loss  of  ideas  from  consciousness. 

2.  The  mind  is  not  an  extended  substance,  with  various 
strata  in  which  the  marks  of  its  ancient  life  remain,  or  on 
which  its  past  is  written.     Except  in  a  figurative  sense  the 
past  is  not  in  the  mind  at  all.     The  fact  is  this.     The  soul, 
in  distinction  from  what  we  assume  for  the  physical  ele- 
ments, is  not  indifferent  to  its  past,  but  carries  that  past 
with  it,  not  at  all  in  the  form  of  latent  modifications,  but 
solely  in  the  power  to  reproduce  that  past  in  consciousness 
and  to  know  it  as  past.     Our  possession  of  a  knowledge 
of  which  we  are  not  conscious  means  only  that  we  can 
reproduce  that   knowledge   upon   occasion.      In  no  other 


88 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


sense  is  past  experience  latent  in  us.  This  power  of  re- 
production and  recognition  admits  of  no  deduction,  and 
has  no  analogue  elsewhere.  All  attempts  to  tell  how  it  is 
possible  overlook  the  essential  features  of  the  fact,  while 
the  various  faculties  invented  for  its  explanation  are  ab- 
stractions from  the  fact  itself. 

3.  When  two  or  more  elements  have  been  joined  in  a 
common  experience,  the  recurrence  of  any  of  these  ele- 
ments often  leads  to  the  recurrence  of  the  whole  experi- 
ence.    Otherwise  expressed,  when  the  mind. has  performed 
a  given  function,  it  may  be  stimulated  thereafter  to  renew 
that  function    by  the    recurrence   in   experience    of    one 
or  more  of  the   factors  which  entered   into  the  original 
function. 

4.  Reproduction  in  no  way  brings  back  the  old  fact. 
The  particular  experience  as  a  mental  fact  vanishes  for- 
ever.    What  remains  is  the  ability  to  perform  anew  the 
ancient  function,  thus  producing  a  new  experience  of  simi- 
lar content  to  the  old.     In  reproduction  the  mind  does  not 
bring  from  the  depths  of  unconsciousness  a  series  of  par- 
ticular experiences,  which  have  lain  there  since  their  first 
occurrence  ;  but  it  is  stimulated  to  reperform  the  original 
function,  thus   producing  a  totally  or  partially  identical 
content.     How  the  mind  can  do  this  we  do  not  pretend  to 
know.     We  have  to  be  content  with  knowing  that  it  does 
it,  although  we  cannot  construct  the  process. 

In  reproduction  a  distinction  is  made  between  the  reviva- 
bility  of  an  experience  and  its  actual  revival.  This  depends 
upon  the  fact  that  certain  experiences  are  more  easily  and 
certainly  recalled  than  certain  others ;  and  the  former  arc 
said  to  be  more  revivable  than  the  latter.  Understanding 
revivability  in  this  sense,  we  may  study  its  conditions. 

Revivability  is  often  said  to  depend  on  the  depth  of  the 
original  impression;  but  this  is  only  a  figure  of  speech 
which  leads  us  round  in  a  circle,  for  there  is  no  way  of 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  89 

measuring  the  depth  of  the  impression  except  by  the  re- 
vivability  itself. 

Revivability  varies  with  several  factors  :  — 

1.  Attention  and  discrimination  in  the  original  experi- 
ence arc  important  elements.     In  general,  we  remember 
that  to  which  we  attend  with  more  certainty  than  that  to 
which  we  give  no  attention. 

2.  Interest  also  is  equally  important.    We  retain  a  much 
firmer  hold  of  that  in  which  we  were  interested,  than  of 
that  to  which  we  were  indifferent.     Interest  works  directly 
as  an  emotional  element,  and  indirectly  by  intensifying  our 
attention. 

3.  Repetition  increases  revivability.     Frequent  forms  of 
activity  tend  to  acquire  the  ease  of  habit. 

4.  Revivability  in  general  diminishes  with  time.     The 
great  bulk  of  events  fades  out  with  the  years. 

Exceptions  are  not  lacking  to  most  of  these  rules ;  but 
their  general  truth  is  unquestionable. 

The  question  is  often  raised,  whether  anything  is  ever 
forgotten.  This  can  only  mean,  Does  any  experience  ever 
become  absolutely  unrevivable  ?  Most  events  of  life,  as 
Locke  says,  are  laid  in  fading  colors,  and  very  quickly  fade 
out  beyond  any  present  power  of  restoration.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  certain  that  events  long  forgotten  have  been  re- 
called with  the  utmost  freshness  in  some  crisis  of  life,  in 
some  access  of  disease,  or  in  some  emotional  exaltation. 
This  recall,  too,  has  extended  not  merely  to  important 
matters,  but  to  insignificant  details.  Such  facts  at  least 
prove  a  possibility. 

But  revivability  is  not  revival,  but  only  the  possibility 
thereof.  How  does  the  possible  revival  become  actual  ? 
The  general  answer  has  already  been  given,  that  revival 
takes  place  through  the  occurrence  in  present  experience 
of  some  factor  whose  content  is  similar  to  that  of  some 
factor  of  the  recalled  experience. 


90  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  current  answer  to  this  question  is  given  in  the  so- 
called  laws  of  association.  Of  these  it  is  not  always  clear 
whether  they  are  supposed  to  be  descriptions  or  explana- 
tions of  the  reproductive  process.  In  truth,  they  can  never 
be  anything  more  than  descriptions.  These  laws  being 
only  classifications  of  experience,  there  is  room  for  some- 
what of  arbitrariness  in  fixing  a  standard  of  classification. 
Accordingly,  it  often  happens  that  writers  redistribute  the 
facts  according  to  some  new  rule,  with  the  result  that  new 
laws  are  discovered,  and  psychology  is  seen  to  be  a  pro- 
gressive science. 

The  laws  most  commonly  given  are  these :  (1.)  conti- 
guity in  space  and  time,  which  is  sometimes  reduced  to  con- 
tiguity in  time ;  (2.)  cause  and  effect ;  and  (3.)  likeness  and 
contrariety,  or  similarity  and  contrast.  That  is,  (1.)  things 
which  we  have  found  together  in  space  and  time  often  re- 
call one  another ;  (2.)  the  cause  recalls  its  effect,  and  con- 
versely ;  and  (3.)  ideas  often  recall  others  like  them,  and 
sometimes  contrasted  ideas.  In  addition,  the  means  sug- 
gests the  end,  and  the  end  the  means ;  the  sign  suggests 
the  thing,  and  the  thing  the  sign.  Such  a  series  might  be 
continued  indefinitely,  thus  producing  the  appearance  of 
fine  psychological  observation.  Concerning  contiguity  and 
similarity  there  is  much  debate  whether  one  underlies  the 
other,  or  whether  both  are  equally  fundamental.  Among 
those  who  regard  only  one  as  primary,  there  is  no  agree- 
ment as  to  which  shall  be  put  first. 

Many  philosophers  have  sought  to  reduce  all  these  laws 
to  one,  which  has  been  called  the  law  of  redintegration. 
This  formidable  term  means,  that,  when  any  part  of  a  pre- 
vious state  recurs  in  experience,  the  mind  tends  to  com- 
plete, and  thus  to  restore,  the  past  experience.  Some  of 
the  formulations  of  this  law  are  unfortunate,  and  would  re- 
strict it  to  the  reproduction  of  objects  which  had  previously 
been  joined  in  thought  or  experience.  On  this  ground,  it 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  91 

has  been  denied  that  this  law  applies  to  association  by 
similarity ;  as  in  cases  of  resemblance  things  suggest  one 
another  which  have  never  been  united  in  any  previous  ex- 
perience. In  its  tenable  form  this  law  reduces  to  the  state- 
ment already  made,  that  the  mind  can  be  stimulated  to 
perform  anew  any  past  function  by  the  recurrence  in  expe- 
rience of  one  or  more  of  the  factors  which  entered  into 
that  function.  This  principle,  which  may  or  may  not  be 
called  redintegration,  contains,  we  conceive,  all  the  so- 
called  laws  of  association. 

All  the  laws  except  that  of  resemblance  appear  at  once 
as  consequences  of  this  formula.  Contiguity  in  space  and 
time  lias  no  effect,  except  as  things  and  events  thus  con- 
tiguous are  apt  to  be  joined  in  a  common  experience. 
The  contiguity  is  no  factor  except  in  an  indirect  way.  If 
things  or  events  had  not  been  together,  they  would  not 
have  been  known  together,  and  hence  would  not  have 
been  recalled  together.  The  same  considerations  apply 
to  suggestions  of  cause  and  effect,  means  and  ends,  etc. 
Our  actual  life  compels  us  to  connect  these  ideas  very 
often ;  and  hence,  when  one  element  is  given,  the  other  is 
likely  to  recur.  Suggestion  by  contrast,  when  it  does  occur, 
comes  under  the  same  head.  There  are  sundry  contrasts 
which  have  a  special  value  for  our  experience,  and  hence 
are  frequently  joined  in  thought.  Beyond  these  cases  the 
suggestion  by  contrast  is  a  pure  fiction. 

There  is,  however,  another  conception  of  contiguity, 
according  to  which  the  sensations  themselves  are  con- 
tiguous, and  cohere  accordingly.  This  is  another  phase  of 
the  mythology  which  has  long  infested  this  region.  Sensa- 
tions have  no  spatial  contiguity,  as  if  they  existed  side 
by  side  and  cohered  at  their  surfaces.  Nor  can  we  make 
any  use  of  their  temporal  contiguity,  unless  we  mean  to 
affirm  a  coherence  of  particular  experiences,  so  that  the  re- 
produced experience  is  the  veritable  old  one  brought  back 


92  PSYCHOLOGY. 

to  life.  And  even  such  a  myth  would  be  useless  ;  for  the 
present  particular  experience  is  here  for  the  first  time,  and 
has  never  been  contiguous  to  anything.  How,  then,  can 
contiguity  act,  when  there  has  been  no  contiguity  ?  It 
would  tend  to  clearness,  and  thus  to  progress,  if  some  one 
would  bethink  himself  to  define  contiguity,  and  to  explain 
what  it  is  that  has  been  contiguous.  Quite  unconsciously, 
it  would  seem,  the  associationalist  operates  with  universals, 
and  not  with  particular  experiences. 

Similarity  or  resemblance  remains  to  be  considered.  It 
is  not  easy  to  know  how  this  law  is  to  be  understood. 
If  we  take  it  literally,  it  seems  to  find  scanty  support  in 
experience.  As  a  rule,  tones  do  not  suggest  tones,  nor 
colors  colors,  but  rather  other  and  diverse  elements  with 
which  they  have  previously  been  joined.  Taking  the  law 
in  literal  strictness,  it  could  never  take  us  outside  of  the 
ideas  to  which  the  suggesting  element  belongs.  No  ele- 
ment could  transcend  its  class.  Thus,  a  sweet  taste  might 
suggest  another  sweet  taste,  but  it  could  nqt  by  resem- 
blance suggest  a  piece  of  sugar,  or  the  fruit  or  any  other 
circumstance  connected  with  it.  For  this  we  should  have 
to  fall  back  upon  our  principle. 

In  general,  this  doctrine  of  association  by  resemblance 
is  extremely  obscure.  To  begin  with,  it  seems  absurd  to 
talk  of  an  association  between  elements  which  have  never 
been  joined  in  experience,  and  yet  it  is  precisely  such  asso- 
ciations which  this  doctrine  contemplates.  The  present 
experience,  a,  which  I  now  have  for  the  first  time,  suggests 
another,  £>,  had  long  ago.  But  a  and  b  have  never  been 
joined,  and  hence  never  associated.  It  is,  then,  a  strange 
use  of  language  to  speak  of  them  as  associated.  Let  us 
escape  this  paradox  by  saying  that  a  suggests  b.  Still  the 
fact  is  as  dark  as  ever.  Why  does  the  mind  go  from  a  to 
a  similar  idea,  b  ?  It  cannot  be  because  they  seem  like  to 
the  mind ;  for  that  would  suppose  the  transit  made,  and 


THE  MECHANISM   OF   REPRODUCTION.  93 

both  objects  to  be  already  in  thought.  The  likeness  so  far 
as  active  in  suggestion  is  unperceived ;  for  by  the  time  it 
is  perceived  it  has  done  its  work.  But  how  can  unperceived 
likeness  be  a  ground  of  suggestion  ? 

The  answer  is  found  in  the  principle  we  have  proposed. 
Likeness  as  such  becomes  a  ground  of  suggestion  only  as 
the  present  experience,  A  b  c  D,  contains  elements  b  c,  com- 
mon to  another  experience,  M b  c  N.  This  common  element, 
b  e,  stimulates  the  mind,  under  favorable  circumstances,  to 
fill  out  the  allied  form  M  be  N.  Sometimes  b  c  is  entirely 
inefficient,  and  then  there  is  no  suggestion.  Sometimes  it 
stimulates  the  mind  to  perform  the  function  M  b  c  JV,  but 
with  only  partial  success.  Then  we  have  the  peculiar  ex- 
perience of  being  reminded  of  something,  we  cannot  say 
what.  Sometimes  the  function  is  fully  performed,  and  then 
the  object  M  be  Nis  fully  recalled,  and  we  ascribe  the  result 
to  its  likeness  to  A  b  c  D. 

To  understand  this  result,  we  must  remember  that  all 
our  experiences  are  compound,  or  have  several  distinguish- 
able elements ;  for  example,  a  picture  may  be  distinguished 
by  its  subject,  the  treatment,  the  grouping,  the  drawing,  the 
coloring,  the  frame,  the  hanging,  and  even  by  the  location ; 
and  association  or  suggestion  may  take  place  through  any 
one  of  these  elements.  Hence  we  may  put  an  object,  A, 
equal  to  its  elements,  abode  ;  and  another  object,  B,  may  be 
put  equal  to  its  elements  ablmr.  If  then  we  have  A  before 
us,  and  our  attention  be  concentrated  upon  it,  there  will 
be  no  suggestion.  In  other  cases  the  factor  a  5,  common 
to  both  A  and  B,  may  stimulate  the  mind  to  complete  the 
function  ablm r.  If  this  succeeds,  B  will  be  recalled  or 
suggested  by  virtue  of  the  likeness  of  A  to  B,  that  is, 
because  of  the  common  factor  a  b.  If  it  does  not  succeed 
to  tho  extent  of  completely  reproducing  the  function,  then 
we  say  that  A  reminds  us  of  something,  we  cannot  say 
what. 


94  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Instead,  then,  of  saying  that  association  by  resemblance 
will  not  come  under  our  principle,  we  must  rather  say  that 
there  seems  to  be  no  way  of  bringing  it  under  any  other. 
At  all  events,  we  can  hardly  adopt  the  fiction  that  simi- 
larity is  a  real  force  of  attraction;  although  many  psy- 
chologists have  not  scrupled  to  speak  of  the  "  attraction 
of  similars." 

Our  conclusion,  then,  is  that  ideas  have  no  attractive  or 
repulsive  forces  among  themselves  whereby  they  move  and 
separate  or  unite,  but  that  all  their  movements,  so  far  as 
they  are  not  due  to  volition,  result  from  the  mental  ten- 
dency to  reproduce  past  forms  of  activity  when  some  factor 
of  those  forms  is  given.  We  find  that  all  the  laws  of  asso- 
ciation are  results  of  this  principle,  and  it  includes  many 
facts  of  association  besides.  Thus  we  find  that  simple 
experiences  alone  have  little  power  of  suggestion.  Simple 
colors  or  sounds  suggest  little,  except  as  parts  of  a  total 
experience  into  which  they  may  have  entered.  In  them- 
selves they  are  so  simple  as  to  involve  little  mental  activity, 
and  hence  the  tendency  to  repeat  it  has  little  occasion  to 
manifest  itself.  Very  different  is  it  with  parts  of  a  whole. 
Hence  the  recurrence  of  any  of  the  factors  tends  to  stimu- 
late the  mind  to  reconstruct  the  whole.  An  odor  suggests 
the  form  and  color  of  the  flower  to  which  it  belongs ;  and 
all  together  may  suggest  places  where  the  flower  grows, 
and  many  other  circumstances  connected  with  it.  So  a 
tone  may  suggest  a  melody,  and  then  its  place  therein,  and 
then  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  heard,  or  those 
who  used  to  sing  it,  etc.  So  the  sound  of  a  word  may 
suggest  its  meaning,  or  its  printed  or  written  form,  or  the 
image  of  the  thing  meant,  etc.  In  all  these  cases  the 
various  elements  have  been  combined  in  previous  experi- 
ences ;  and  the  more  deliberate  and  conscious  the  relating 
of  the  several  parts  in  the  original  experience,  the  more 
certainly  does  the  mind  reproduce  them  in  connection. 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  95 

Nor  does  the  mind  merely  re-relate  them ;  it  relates  them 
in  the  same  manner  as  before.  A  succession  of  events  is 
more  easily  reproduced  in  their  original  order,  since  that 
is  the  form  of  the  original  function.  The  alphabet,  a  mel- 
ody, a  series  of  any  kind,  can  hardly  be  reprodued  at  all 
apart  from  the  original  order. 

If  a  given  idea  had  only  a  single  association,  it  might  be 
easy  to  trace  the  course  of  suggestion,  and  even  to  predict 
it.  In  fact,  however,  in  our  developed  experience  the  same 
element,  a,  has  entered  into  combination  with  a  great  many 
others,  6,  c,  d,  e,  etc.  This  complicates  the  problem  beyond 
all  calculation.  We  have  the  groups  abc,  ade,  afg,  etc., 
indefinitely.  Yet  the  recurrence  of  a  does  not  recall  all  of 
these  groups,  but  rather  some  one  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
others.  This  special  direction  is  due  to  special  circum- 
stances. A  leading  one  is  the  predominant  interest  of  the 
mind  at  the  time.  Suggestions  are  generally  relevant  to 
the  matter  in  hand  when  the  mind  is  seriously  engaged 
upon  any  subject.  In  general,  too,  the  greater  the  similar- 
ity, the  more  probable  the  suggestion ;  as  then  the  mental 
activity  in  both  cases  approaches  nearer  identity,  and  the 
stimulus  to  reproduction  becomes  stronger.  That  is,  two 
objects,  abed  and  aefg,  would  be  less  likely  to  suggest  each 
other  than  two  -other  objects,  abed  and  abef,  as  the  latter 
functions  approach  nearer  identity  than  the  former.  Other 
grounds  of  direction  are  found  in  the  tone  and  type  of  feel- 
ing, and  also  in  our  physical  condition.  One  of  the  most 
marked  defects  of  the  common  expositions  of  the  doctrine 
of  association  is  that  they  overlook  the  profound  signifi- 
cance of  the  feelings  and  emotions  for  the  association  of 
ideas,  whereas  ideas  are  quite  as  often  suggested  by  feelings 
as  by  ideas,  and  the  general  direction  of  association  is  espe- 
cially due  to  the  emotional  state.  But  all  these  factors, 
the  interest,  the  attention,  the  general  current  of  thought 
and  type  of  feeling,  are  incessantly  changing.  The  mental 


96  PSYCHOLOGY. 

mechanism,  if  there  be  one,  not  only  incessantly  produces 
new  combinations,  but  the  elements  and  forces  themselves 
are  constantly  changing.  The  result  is,  that  variegated 
play  of  ideas  which  varies  from  an  orderly  suggestion  of 
relevant  thoughts  to  the  apparently  hap-hazard  and  lawless 
mental  drift  of  revery  and  dream. 

It  is  a  question  whether  the  course  of  suggestion  can 
always  be  traced,  or  whether  the  connecting  links  are  some- 
times out  of  sight.  There  is  general  agreement  that  the 
connecting  links  exist,  but  doubt  exists  as  to  the  possibility 
of  finding  them.  Experience,  indeed,  often  presents  us 
with  ideas  which  seem  to  have  no  connection  with  our 
previous  mental  state.  They  appear  to  be  new  beginnings 
in  the  mental  flow.  To  explain  such  cases,  two  theories 
exist.  (1.)  The  connecting  ideas  were  in  consciousness,  but 
vanished  as  soon  as  they  had  conjured  up  the  suggested 
idea,  and  left  no  trace  behind.  (2.)  The  connecting  ideas 
were  not  in  consciousness,  but  below  it  as  latent  mental 
states,  and  the  connection  took  place  in  this  sub-conscious 
region.  Suppose  A  is  given  in  consciousness,  and  C  sud- 
denly appears.  On  the  former  view,  J3,  the  connecting  link, 
was  momentarily  in  consciousness,  and  disappeared  without 
leaving  any  impression  upon  the  memory.  On  the  latter 
view,  B  was  not  in  consciousness  at  all.  In  support  of  the 
former  view  it  is  urged  that  ideas  are  constantly  pouring 
through  consciousness,  yet  without  leaving  any  impression 
on  the  memory  because  of  their  irrelevancy  to  our  mental 
state,  or  because  of  our  total  lack  of  interest  and  attention. 
Thus,  in  reading,  all  the  words  make  an  impression  upon 
consciousness,  but  as  words  they  are  immediately  forgot- 
ten. In  writing  we  consciously  direct  the  formation  of 
each  letter,  but  the  recollection  vanishes  with  the  act  itself. 
Hence  we  need  not  assume  sub-conscious  mental  states  to 
account  for  the  fact. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  fact  itself  exists  which  these 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  REPRODUCTION.  97 

theories  seek  to  explain.  Both  alike  rest  on  the  fancy  that 
ideas  are  suggested  only  by  ideas.  Had  it  been  seen  that 
feelings,  even  of  the  vaguest  sort,  can  suggest  ideas,  the 
fact  in  question  would  have  been  doubted.  What  suggested 
idea  B  ?  No  idea  A  is  found,  but  it  is  concluded  that  the 
idea  A  must  have  been  there,  either  in  consciousness  or 
out  of  it.  But,  instead  of  idea  A,  it  may  have  been  a  feel- 
ing F  in  any  of  its  shades  or  modifications,  and  these  may 
have  been  so  fleeting  as  to  attract  no  attention  whatever. 
They  may  even  remain  in  consciousness,  yet  so  involved 
with  other  elements  as  to  present  no  clearly  distinguishable 
content.  Instead,  then,  of  saying  that  the  connecting  link 
is  not  in  consciousness,  we  go  as  far  as  the  facts  warrant 
when  we  say  that  we  do  not  distinguish  the  line  of  connec- 
tion. There  is  certainly  no  occasion  for  falling  back  on 
unconscious  mental  modifications,  or  on  what  Hamilton, 
with  a  close  approach  to  a  contradiction,  calls  latent  modi- 
fications of  consciousness.  The  factors  which  enter  into 
an  object  are  so  numerous  as  often  to  admit  of  no  distinct 
recognition ;  and  suggestion  may  take  place  through  any 
of  them.  When  suggestion  does  take  place  through  such 
undistinguished  elements,  then  we  have  the  appearance  of 
the  fact  assumed  by  the  two  theories,  an  apparently  ground- 
less suggestion.  We  have  an  illustration  in  the  frequent 
experience  of  being  reminded  by  something  of  another  thing 
without  being  able  to  tell  what  it  is  in  the  first  which  re- 
calls the  second. 

Various  experiments  are  made  in  physiological  psychol- 
ogy to  measure  the  time  of  the  associational  .process.  Thus 
words  are  called,  and  the  time  .elapsing  before  compre- 
hension is  measured.  As  yet  nothing  has  been  revealed 
beyond  the  unimportant  but  familiar  fact  that  things  aret 
more  quickly  recalled  in  the  measure  of  their  familiarity, 
or  that  customary  associations  take  less  time  than  infre- 
quent ones.  By  the  aid  of  statistical  tables  and  occasional 


98  PSYCHOLOGY. 

woodcuts  this  commonplace  is  made  to  assume  a  novel  and 
severely  scientific  appearance. 

Herewith  we  close  the  discussion  of  the  mechanism  of 
representative  knowledge.  The  conclusion  is,  that  the  facts 
admit  of  no  mechanical  construction,  and  that  only  a  general 
description  of  the  process  is  possible.  There  is  no  theory 
which  gives  any  real  insight  into  reproduction,  and  no  for- 
mula which  enables  us  to  trace  the  process  in  detail.  The 
general  law  already  given  does  not  enable  us  to  predict 
special  cases ;  nor  is  it  by  any  means  always  possible  to 
trace  the  course  of  suggestion  after  the  event  has  declared 
itself. 


CEREBRAL  THEORY  OF  REPRODUCTION.  99 


APPENDIX   TO   CHAPTER  III. 

CEREBRAL    THEORY    OF    REPRODUCTION. 

A  DETAILED  account  of  this  theory  seems  desirable,  not 
because  of  its  intrinsic  value,  but  solely  because  of  its  facti- 
tious importance.  We  have  already  pointed  out  that  it 
may  be  held  in  a  purely  materialistic  sense ;  and  in  that 
form  it  is  repudiated  in  advance.  But  it  may  also  be  held 
in  connection  with  a  spiritual  conception  of  the  soul.  Its 
most  general  assumption  is,  that  every  mental  state,  of 
whatever  kind,  makes  some  permanent  impression  upon  the 
brain,  which  thus  becomes  a  register  of  experience.  Its 
common  statement  provides  only  for  the  recovery  of  sensa- 
tions, as  follows. 

Every  sensation  has  for  its  antecedent  some  molecular 
movement  in  the  brain ;  and  thereby,  through  repetition, 
the  brain  acquires  a  tendency  to  that  movement.  Thus 
permanent  impressions  of  some,  sort  are  made  upon  the 
brain-tissue,  and  these  provide  for  the  repetition  of  the 
sensations  themselves  in  their  faint  form  as  representa- 
tions. In  any  future  nervous  action  there  will  be  a  ten- 
dency to  re-excite  the  earlier  forms  of  activity,  and  the 
corresponding  representations  will  be  reproduced. 

In  this  form  the  theory  is  manifestly  incomplete,  as  it 
provides  only  for  the  case  of  knowledge  obtained  through 
the  senses,  whereas  reproduction  has  to  do,  not  only  with 
this,  but  also  with  emotions,  thoughts,  resolves,  volitions, 
etc.  To  make  the  doctrine  adequate,  we  must  assume  that 
all  mental  states,  whatever  their  origin,  impress  themselves 
upon  the  brain  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  relatively  perma- 
nent registers  of  themselves.  We  must  next  assume  that 


100  PSYCHOLOGY. 

these  registers  interact  in  some  way,  and  thus  determine 
the  appearance  and  disappearance  of  the  corresponding 
ideas.  Those  who  have  held  the  view  have  generally  held 
a  sensational  philosophy,  and  thus  have  concealed  from 
themselves  the  enormous  complexity  of  the  theory. 

As  thus  given,  the  theory  is  very  vague,  and  needs  fur- 
ther specification.  It  is  not  clear  whether  the  nervous 
registers  consist  in  special  groupings,  or  in  special  move- 
ments, or  in  a  form  of  organic  habit,  a  tendency  to  re- 
peat the  customary  forms  of  action.  The  more  common 
view  unites  the  first  and  second,  and  regards  the  nervous 
register  as  consisting  in  a  special  grouping  leading  to  spe- 
cial movements  within  that  grouping.  The  special  group- 
ing alone  would  be  no  ground  for  either  sensation  or  its 
recall ;  and  the  special  movement  implies  some  special 
grouping  as  its  possibility.  These  two  views  then  imply 
each  other.  The  third  view  will  be  considered  by  itself. 
Moreover,  as  the  cell  is  the  unit  of  structure  in  the  gray 
matter  of  the  brain,  where  by  common  consent  these  regis- 
ters are  located,  the  brain-cells  are  supposed  to  become  the 
carriers  of  our  experience  through  the  modifications  pro- 
duced in  them.  We  shall  call  the  view,  therefore,  the 
nerve-cell  theory;  but  our  criticism  will  apply  equally  to 
any  theory  which  regards  the  nervous  register  as  consist- 
ing in  special  groupings  and  movements  of  the  brain  ele- 
ments. By  cells,  then,  we  understand,  not  the  physiologi- 
cal unit  of  structure,  but  the  peculiar  grouping  which  is 
supposed  to  bear  our  past  experience. 

We  consider  the  cell  theory  first.  To  begin  with,  it  is 
plain  that  we  get  no  aid  from  the  theory  unless  we  refer 
different  experiences  to  different  cells.  For  if  one  and  the 
same  cell  had  to  preserve  distinct  a  multitude  of  impres- 
sions, it  would  be  quite  impossible  to  see  how  the  one 
physical  cell  could  do  this  more  efficiently  than  the  mind 
itself.  Hence  the  theory  has  generally  been  regarded  as 


.      CEREBRAL   THEORY  OF  REPRODUCTION.  101 

demanding  separate  cells  for  the  preservation  of  distinct 
experiences  ;  and  this  has  even  been  regarded  as  an  ad- 
vantage, as  it  furnishes  a  ready  explanation  of  the  strange 
psychological  fact  that  ideas  do  not  coalesce  in  conscious- 
ness although  without  dividing  walls.  We  have  but  to 
suppose  each  idea  based  upon  the  action  of  a  separate  cell 
to  see  why  this  is  so.  At  least  we  are  told  so,  although  it 
is  not  at  first  clear  that  the  distinctness  of  the  cells  out  of 
consciousness  must  forbid  the  fusion  of  their  resultants  in 
consciousness. 

This  theory,  like  materialism,  is  perfectly  intelligible 
until  one  seeks  to  understand  it.  Or,  like  materialism 
again,  it  explains  facts  in  general  very  handsomely,  but  is 
rather  at  a  disadvantage  when  applied  to  facts  in  particu- 
lar. Having  decided  to  call  certain  hypothetical  molecular 
groupings  representatives  of  ideas,  and  having  further  as- 
sumed them  in  various  dynamic  relations,  we  seem  to  have 
all  the  conditions  of  insight.  But  some  difficulties  emerge 
upon  closer  examination. 

First  of  all,  the  complexity  of  the  theory  must  be  noticed. 
Take  a  single  sense,  as  vision.  The  same  object  makes 
very  different  sense  impressions,  according  to  our  distance 
from  it.  Every  step  toward  it  modifies  the  visual  impres- 
sion and  the  number  of  retinal  elements  concerned  in  the 
vision.  Again,  I  may  easily  cause  the  image  at  any  point . 
to  fall  on  different  parts  of  the  retina,  and  thus  bring 
different  nervous  elements  into  play,  and  produce  again 
new  and  peculiar  sense  impressions.  But  since  these  are 
all  distinguishable,  and  since  a  given  cell  can  receive  only 
a  single  impression,  it  would  follow  that  an  indefinite  num- 
ber of  cells  is  required  to  represent  a  short  experience  with 
a  single  visual  object.  The  same  considerations  apply  to 
any  of  the  other  senses.  All  admit  of  indefinite  degrees  of 
distinguishable  sensation,  and  hence  there  must  be  a  cor- 
responding number  of  cells  to  make  the  discrimination 


102  PSYCHOLOGY. 

possible.  Likewise,  every  object  is  given  an  an  indefinite 
number  of  relations,  or  with  an  ever-varying  content.  Thus 
a  given  person,  A,  is  known  as  a  boy  or  a  man ;  as  meeting  us 
in  this  or  that  place,  or  under  these  or  those  circumstances ; 
as  wearing  a  certain  style  of  clothing,  or  as  making  this  or 
that  remark.  Our  experience  of  A,  and  of  every  object  in 
general,  is  always  particular,  and  never  can  be  universal. 
Hence  there  must  be  a  special  cell  for  each  of  these  special 
experiences.  This  overwhelming  complexity  is  overlooked 
by  making  the  logical  universal  in  each  case  take  the  place 
of  the  specific  experience.  But  this  will  not  do,  for  two 
reasons:  (1.)  it  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  logical  universal 
that  it  coexists  with  the  cases  subsumed  under  it,  and  does 
not  arise  from  their  fusion ;  and  (2.)  if  the  cell  represented 
only  the  logical  universal,  we  should  be  unable  to  recall  any 
of  the  specific  cases.  Hence  we  must  have  special  cells  for 
genera,  other  cells  for  the  included  species,  still  others  for 
the  individuals,  and  an  indefinite  number  for  the  myriad 
contexts  in  which  each  individual  has  been  experienced. 
Thus  there  must  be  a  cell  for  color,  still  others  for  colors, 
others  again  for  all  possible  shades  of  those  colors,  and 
finally  a  countless  number  for  the  myriad  experiences  with 
individual  cases.  When  we  multiply  these  by  the  number 
of  individuals,  we  begin  to  get  some  idea  of  the  complexity 
of  the  theory.  This  must  then.be  increased  by  the  num- 
ber of  possible  experiences ;  for,  by  the  theory,  for  each  dis- 
tinguishable form  and  place  of  every  experience,  real  and 
possible,  there  must  be  a  special  nervous  grouping  and 
movement  which  can  be  appropriated  to  nothing  else  after 
the  experience  has  occurred.  And  even  this  is  not  the 
end,  for  separate  experiences,  real  and  possible,  of  the  same 
thing,  as  well  as  of  different  things,  must  have  their  special 
grouping  ;  for  they  are  certainly  distinguishable,  and  on  the 
theory  this  must  point  to  peculiar  corresponding  grouping. 
Whatever  is  distinguishable  in  mental  experience,  whether 


CEREBRAL  THEORY  OF  REPRODUCTION.  103 

in  space,  time,  number,  quantity,  quality,  etc.,  must  be 
based  on  correspondent  nervous  differences,  and  have  its 
appropriate  cell.  Indeed,  it  would  follow  that  the  cell  of 
a  given  experience  could  never  represent  any  other,  even  of 
the  same  class,  for  that  other  would  always  differ  in  time 
at  least,  and  generally  in  many  other  respects ;  it  would 
then  be  special,  and  must  have  its  special  cell. 

This  complexity  may  be  further  illustrated  by  the  facts 
of  language.  We  must  have  cells  not  only  for  the  several 
parts  of  speech,  but  also  for  every  word ;  and  not  only  for 
every  word  as  representing  an  object,  but  also  for  every 
word  as  a  thing  in  itself.  That  is,  there  must  be  cells  for 
the  objects,  and  other  cells  for  the  words,  as  the  two  are 
quite  distinct.  There  must  also  be  cells  for  the  sounds  of 
the  words,  and  cells  for  the  words  as  written.  Take,  for 
example,  "through";  there  must  be  a  cell  for  the  sound, 
others  for  the  printed  letters,  others  for  the  written  letters, 
and  still  others  for  their  combination.  Without  the  first, 
we  should  not  understand  the  word  when  spoken ;  without 
the  second  and  third,  we  should  not  recognize  the  word  as 
written  or  printed ;  and  without  the  fourth,  we  could  not 
spell  it.  Finally,  there  must  be  some  kind  of  nervous 
grouping  for  each  of  the  many  relations  in  which  this  word, 
as  preposition,. stands  to  others. 

Again,  if  we  learn  a  foreign  language,  a  corresponding 
number  of  different  cells  must  be  produced  outside  of  the 
tract  which  represents  the  words  and  grammar  of  our 
mother  tongue.  If  we  should  go  on,  like  Cardinal  Mezzo- 
fanti,  who,  it  is  said,  spoke  fluently  in  thirty  languages, 
and  knew  something  of  seventy-two  languages,  it  would 
seem  as  if  the  language  tract  would  get  filled  up.  Of 
course  it  would  take  a  correspondingly  great  number  of 
cells  to  represent  all  this  linguistic  wealth,  and  there  would 
be  also  as  many  different  sets-  of  cells  as  there  were  dif- 
ferent languages.  It  is  somewhat  hard  to  see  what  the 


104  PSYCHOLOGY. 

difference  is  between  the  cells  of  different  words  in  the 
same  language,  but  the  physical  difference  between  Eng- 
lish,, French,  German,  and  Italian  cells  is  highly  obscure. 
This  complexity  has  been  lost  sight  of  because  of  the  fancy 
that  experience  is  of  the  logical  universal ;  and  that  hence 
a  single  cell  might  represent  all  the  individuals  of  a  class. 
Probably  the  theory  would  never  have  been  held  at  all  by 
any  but  materialists,  except  for  this  mistake. 

To  keep  the  impressions  separate  is  a  second  point  of 
great  difficulty.  Suppose  a  series  of  impressions  on  the 
retina ;  where  are  they  stored  ?  Not  in  the  retina  and  the 
optic  nerve ;  for  these  perpetually  return  to  a  state  of  equi- 
librium. Otherwise  they  could  not  mediate  a  knowledge  of 
all  visible  objects.  The  impressions,  then,  are  stored  some- 
where in  the  brain,  probably  in  some  area  of  the  enveloping 
gray  matter.  Impression  a,  then,  finds  its  way  to  a  given 
point  in  this  area,  and  a  cell  is  formed,  or  an  existing  cell  is 
modified.  Impressions  6,  c,  d,  e,  etc.  follow,  and  other  cells 
are  made  or  modified.  To  assume  that  the  nerve  elements 
which  receive  the  several  impressions  were  originally 
adapted  to  them  alone,  would  be  a  monstrous  extension  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  specific  energy  of  the  nerves,  and  would 
be  a  physiological  form  of  pre-established  harmony  which 
would  likely  find  no  supporters.  We  should  need  to  sup- 
pose, for  example,  that  the  word  "  two"  can  be  understood 
only  by  a  certain  element  in  the  visual  area  and  by  a  cer- 
tain other  element  in  the  auditory  area ;  and  that  only  on 
the  supposition  that  these  elements  have  been  Anglicized. 
Yet,  without  assuming  such  pre-established  harmony,  it  is 
not  easy  to  see  why  impression  a  should  be  stored  in  cell  a, 
and  not  in  any  other  cell  whatever.  It  is  still  harder  to 
see  why  impressions  b,  c,  etc.  should  turn  aside  to  form 
special  cells  for  themselves,  instead  of  modifying  the  results 
of  a,  and  forming  a  mixed  resultant.  The  original  nerve 
elements  were  as  open  to  6,  c,  etc.  as  to  a ;  and  hence  all 


CEREBRAL  THEORY  OF  REPRODUCTION.      105 

the  laws  of  physical  action  would  lead  us  to  expect  a  re- 
sultant impression,  in  which  the  plurality  and  peculiarities 
of  the  components  should  disappear.  If  this  does  not  take 
place,  we  must  suppose  that,  for  some  inscrutable  reason,  a 
given  nerve  element,  when  once  made  the  bearer  of  a  men- 
tal experience,  is  thereafter  incapable  of  receiving  new 
impressions.  The  method  of  securing  this  extraordinary 
result  is  beyond  all  suspicion.  Of  course,  this  view  fur- 
ther implies  that  the  possibilities  of  experience  are  being 
used  up,  and  that  all  new  impressions  must  be  referred  to 
the  elements  which  have  not  yet  been  pre-empted. 

This  implication  has  been  recognized,  and  the  attempt 
has  been  made  to  calculate  the  probable  number  of  dispos- 
able cells,  and  the  resulting  range  of  knowledge.1 

The  working  of  the  theory  implies  that  the  recurrence 
of  an  impression  may  re-excite  the  ancient  cell ;  but  as  the 
same  impressions  never  recur,  but  only  similar  ones  with 
different  contexts,  it  is  hard  to  see  how  the  same  cell  can 
ever  be  re-excited.  In  some  way,  however,  similar  impres- 
sions are  supposed  to  betake  themselves  to  the  same  cells. 
Hence,  a  repetition  of  an  old  experience  must  find  its  way 
to  its  proper  cell,  however  many  intervening  cells  of  dis- 
similar experiences  there  may  be.  We  should  expect  an 
in-going  impulse  to  excite  all  the  cells  along  its  track,  and 
thus  to  precipitate  an  indefinite  number  of  past  experiences 
upon  us.  But  as  this  does  not  happen,  we  must  fall  back 
upon 'some  specific  relation  between  a  given  impulse  and 
the  corresponding  cell,  so  that  only  the  former  can  excite 
the  latter,  and  so  that  the  former  can  excite  only  the  latter. 
But  how  this  selective  action  is  possible  is  not  clear.  It 
has  been  suggested  that  we  might  conceive  of  it  as  the  re- 
lation of  a  musical  note  to  a  series  of  stretched  cords.  In 
the  latter  case,  a  given  note  is  responded  to  only  by  the 
cord  which  gives  that  note,  while  all  the  others  remain 

1  See  Bain's  "  Mind  and  Body." 


106  PSYCHOLOGY. 

silent.  But  this  suggestion  only  restates  the  problem,  with- 
out giving  any  kind  of  idea  how  the  thing  is  done  in  the 
brain.  In  any  case,  we  have  to  assume  a  highly  mysterious 
relation  between  a  given  impulse  and  a  given  cell ;  whereas 
absolutely  nothing  is  known  which  suggests  that  a  given 
impulse  is  not  adapted  to  excite  all  cells  alike  which  may 
lie  along  its  track.  Nothing  is  known,  for  example,  which 
suggests  that  a  given  word,  seen  or  pronounced,  is  able  to 
excite  only  one  corresponding  cell,  and  not  rather  all  cells 
connected  with  the  nervous  area  in  question. 

The  construction  of  our  complex  notions  is  also  a  point 
of  great  obscurity.  Take,  for  instance,  molasses.  As 
having  a  peculiar  odor,  there  must  be  a  molasses  cell  con- 
nected with  the  olfactory  nerve.  As  having  a  peculiar 
look,  there  must  be  a  molasses  cell  connected  with  the 
optic  nerve.  As  having  a  peculiar  flavor,  there  must  be  a 
molasses  cell  connected  with  the  nerves  of  taste.  As  hav- 
ing a  name  which  may  be  both  read  and  heard,  there  must 
be  a  corresponding  cluster  for  both  eye  and  ear.  Now  how 
do  these  several  simple  cells  unite  to  form  the  complex 
notion  molasses  ?  It  would  not  do  to  have  them  leave  their 
several  sensational  areas  and  meet  at  some  central  spot ; 
for  that  would  take  them  out  of  all  relation  to  the  sensory 
nerves.  It  has  been  held  that  each  remains  where  it  is  in 
its  own  sensational  area,  and  that  they  are  united  by  lines 
of  nervous  connection,  whereby  an  affection  of  one  becomes 
an  affection  of  all.  Of  course,  anatomy  knows  nothing  of 
these  lines ;  but,  allowing  them,  they  raise  more  problems 
than  they  solve.  If  there  antecedent  to  experience,  we 
have  a  physiological  pre-established  harmony  between  the 
brain  and  the  future  experience  %of  the  individual ;  and  if 
not  there,  we  must  assume  that  a  single  experience,  which 
often  results  in  an  abiding  association,  can  produce  and 
maintain  a  line  of  nervous  connection  where  there  was 
none  before.  I  meet  a  person  in  a  restaurant.  Both  per- 


CEREBRAL  THEORY  OF  REPRODUCTION.      107 

son  and  place  may  be  strange  to  me.  In  that  case,  at  least 
two  new  cells  and  a  new  line  of  nervous  connection  must 
be  established,  as  a  result  of  a  momentary  experience. 
Such  extraordinary  structural  changes  do  not  happen  else- 
where with  such  rapidity. 

The  complexity  of  this  view,  again,  is  hidden  by  attend- 
ing only  to  the  logical  universal.  The  general  notion  with, 
say,  five  marks,  needs  apparently  only  five  cells  and  five 
lines  of  communication ;  but  the  particular  case  is  never 
the  universal,  but  is  subsumed  under  it.  Hence,  each  of 
the  five  marks  must  have  an  indefinite  number  of  special 
cases,  and  there  must  be  a  corresponding  number  of  lines 
of  communication  all  uniting  in  the  class  cell.  In  the 
same  way,  all  the  words  and  letters  of  a  language  must 
have  the  most  amazing  complexity  of  interlacing.  As 
words  they  must  be  linked  with  their  objects,  and  not  only 
with  an  object  in  general,  but  with  an  indefinite  variety  of 
particular  objects.  As  words,  again,  they  must  be  vari- 
ously linked  with  one  another  in  an  indefinite  number  of 
phrases.  The  letters,  too,  must  have  their  appropriate  cells, 
and  each  of  these  cells  must  be  connected  with  myriad 
others  in  the  manifold  combinations  of  spelling.  It  is  not 
plain  whether  the  cell  for  t  standing  alone  is  the  same  as 
the  cells  for  t  in  "the,"  "this,"  "that,"  etc.,  or  whether 
there  is  a  special  cell  for  each  case ;  but  the  complexity 
is  equally  great  in  either  case.  In  the  latter,  the  single 
letter  requires  an  enormous  number  of  cells ;  in  the  former, 
it  requires  an  equally  great  number  of  lines  of  nervous 
connection. 

Moreover,  allowing  these  lines  of  communication  to  ex- 
ist, the  peculiarities  of  association  are  far  from  explained. 
We  have  merely  explained  a  possible  association,  and  not 
the  peculiarities  of  actual  reproduction.  Thus  molasses, 
again,  is  given  in  the  greatest  variety  of  contexts.  The 
various  kinds  and  grades  of  molasses,  molasses  on  bread 


108  PSYCHOLOGY. 

or  the  baby's  fingers,  molasses  in  the  cruet,  the  cask,  the 
store,  molasses  at  the  boarding-school  or  in  its  hygienic 
relations,  molasses  in  its  manufacture,  molasses  in  its  re- 
lation to  sugar  or  New  England  rum,  molasses  in  its 
commercial  and  international  relations,  —  any  of  these 
considerations,  and  any  one  of  an  indefinite  number  of 
special  cases  under  each  of  these  specifications,  may  be 
suggested  by  the  word  molasses.  Hence,  the  auditory 
molasses  cell  must  be  connected  by  nerve-lines  with  all 
these  other  cells;  and  since  the  same  effect  might  have 
followed  if  any  of  the  other  senses  had  been  excited,  all 
the  molasses  cells  must  be  in  similar  connection.  But  then 
it  is  peculiarly  hard  to  see  why  the  stimulus  of  a  given  cell 
should  not  produce  a  discharge  along  all  the  lines  of  com- 
munication. This  is  what  all  physical  analogy  would  lead 
us  to  expect ;  but  this  is  precisely  what  does  not  happen. 
The  actual  excitation  takes  place  along  lines  of  psycho- 
logical interest,  and  these  have  no  physical  analogy.  The 
nervous  discharge  could  have  no  interest  in  going  along 
one  line  rather  than  another,  and,  unless  there  be  some 
physical  hindrance,  must  take  place  along  all  lines  alike. 
In  most  cases,  withal,  there  is  no  discharge  on  any  line,  but 
the  mind  keeps  on  its  chosen  course  of  thought.  Hence, 
after  constructing  a  theory  with  great  pains,  we  have  the 
mortification  of  finding  that  it  will  not  work  without  as- 
suming a  purely  hypothetical  set  of  physical  conditions  to 
make  it  adequate  to  the  effect. 

A  still  more  remarkable  case  of  selection  appears  in 
the  facts  of  aphasia.  It  is  well  known  that,  in  this  dis- 
ease, there  is  often  a  progressive  loss  of  the  parts  of 
speech.  Proper  names  go  first,  then  the  more  common 
substantives,  then  the  abstract  parts  of  speech,  as  verbs, 
verbal  nouns,  and  prepositions,  and  finally  the  interjec- 
tions. 

This  order  is  what  we  should  expect  from  the  familiar 


CEREBRAL  THEORY  OF  REPRODUCTION.     109 

psychological  law,  that  the  strength  of  association  varies 
with  the  frequency  with  which  the  elements  have  been 
conjoined.  In  the  case  of  persons  they  are  represented  in 
our  thought  by  their  image,  rather  than  by  their  names. 
In  the  case  of  common 'nouns  the  same  is  true,  but  to  a 
less  extent.  The  abstract  parts  of  speech,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  represented  only  by  the  word.  In  their  case, 
then,  the  strongest  association  must  be  established.  These 
facts,  then,  are  not  entirely  unamenable  to  psychological 
law;  but  they  are  entirely  foreign  to  any  known  laws  of 
physical  action.  On  the  theory  of  nerve-cells,  we  must 
suppose  a  curious  selection  on  the  part  of  the  disease,  — 
attacking  first  of  all  the  proper  nouns,  then  addressing 
itself  to  the  common  nouns,  and  finally,  after  devouring 
verbs  and  prepositions,  rooting  out  the  interjections.  How 
such  selection  is  physically  possible  is  not  explained.  It 
has  been  suggested  that  the  parts  of  speech  are  put  in  in 
layers  in  the  brain-cells ;  but  this  only  removes  the  diffi- 
culty to  the  original  stowing,  and  besides  creates  surprise 
that  the  layers  should  always  be  attacked  by  disease  in  the 
same  order. 

The  cell  theory  labors  under  the  following  physiological 
difficulties :  — 

1.  The  existence  of  sensational  areas  is  not  certainly 
established,  and  in  any  case  they  form  only  a  small  amount 
of  the  gray  envelope  of  the  brain. 

2.  It  asserts  a  specific  energy  of  the  nervous  elements, 
either  original  or  acquired,  which  is  opposed  to  all  the 
indications  of  physiological  research. 

3.  Hence  its  assumption  of  specific  nerve  cells  for  each 
element  of  sense  experience  is  very  doubtful,  while  the  as- 
sumption of  such  cells  for  every  element  of  thought  and 
feeling  is  an  hypothesis  to  prove  an  hypothesis. 

4.  Assuming  these  cells,  we  have  next  to  assume  special 
lines  of  nervous  connection  among  the  cells  whose  mental 


110  PSYCHOLOGY. 

counterparts  appear  together  in  consciousness ;  that  is,  a 
second  hypothesis  is  brought  in  to  support  the  first. 

5.  Since  all  associated  elements  do  not  always  appear 
together,  but  now  one  and  now  another,  we  must  next  as- 
sume a  series  of  unknown  physical  conditions  which  pro- 
duce this  peculiar  result,  so  unlike  the  uniform  action  of 
physical  forces.     That  is,  a  third  hypothesis  is  needed  to 
support  the  other  two.     Moreover,  these  unknown  condi- 
tions contain  the  whole  mystery  of  the  actual  result. 

6.  To  keep  the  impressions  separate,  either  as  deposited 
in  the  original  brain-cells  or  as  represented  by  new  group- 
ings, we  have  to  assume  some  unknown  conditions  which 

O      / 

do  it  we  know  not  how.     This  is  an  additional  hypothesis 
to  prove  the  rest. 

7.  The  complexity  of  the  theory  makes  demands  upon 
the  brain  which  there  is  no  reason  for  believing  that  it  can 
fulfil. 

8.  The  duality  of  the  brain  as  a  mental  organ  might  com- 
pel us  to  reduplicate  the  whole  intolerable  complexity. 

9.  The  facts  of  aphasia  mentioned,  and  various  facts  con- 
nected with  the  loss  of  memory,  lead  on  this  theory  to  the 
most  fantastic  and  grotesque  assumptions. 

Finally,  if  these  difficulties  were  all  overcome,  we  are 
unable  to  work  the  theory  without  assuming  an  indepen- 
dent power  of  reproduction  in  the  mind  itself. 

It  would  be  insufferably  tedious  to  pursue  this  theory 
any  further.  In  itself  it  belongs  to  the  department  of 
physiological  mythology,  and  was  born  either  of  mate- 
rialism or  of  an  inability  to  think  except  in  physical 
pictures.  In  such  cases  the  mystery  of  reproduction  seems 
solved  when  we  feign  a  multitude  of  cells  duly  connected 
with  nervous  fibres,  and  grouped  into  larger  clusters.  Such 
external  relations  of  imaginary  spatial  inclusion  and  con- 
nection have  been  supposed  to  account  for  the  unpicturable 
relations  of  thought.  The  same  type  of  mind  has  found  it 


CEREBRAL  THEORY  OF  REPRODUCTION. 


Ill 


easy  to  explain  self-consciousness  by  supposing  the  brain 
molecules  to  move  in  paths  which  return  upon  themselves ; 
for  is  not  self-consciousness  such  a  recurrent  movement  ? 
And  what  is  plainer  than  that  the  higher  forms  of  mental 
activity  are  explained  when  we  suppose  their  seat  to  lie 
higher  up  in  the  brain  ?  And  yet,  perhaps,  as  profounder 
forms  of  mental  action,  they  might  more  appropriately  be 
located  at  its  base. 

The  second  form  of  the  cerebral  theory  is  based  upon 
the  analogy  of  habit,  and  escapes  many  of  the  gratuitous 
difficulties  of  the  cell  theory.  It  regards  experience  as 
stored  in  the  brain  in  the  form  of  tendencies,  dispositions, 
facilities,  etc.  There  is  no  need,  then,  to  provide  a  sepa- 
rate cell  for  each  experience,  but  one  and  the  same  nervous 
element  may  preserve  various  experiences.  Our  muscles 
do  not  contain  their  past  acts  in  discrete  physical  repre- 
sentatives, but  rather  in  increased  facility  in  general,  and 
especially  in  increased  facility  in  the  particular  line  of 
action  chosen.  It  would  be  absurd  to  look  in  the  musi- 
cian's fingers  for  the  pieces  of  music  mastered,  and  it 
would  be  still  more  absurd  to  seek  to  determine  the  range 
of  musical  acquirement  by  the  number  of  the  fingers. 
Individual  movements  are  lost  in  the  common  resultant 
of  developed  muscular  possibilities.  Applying  this  view 
to  the  brain,  the  looking  for  nerve  cells  which  represent 
discrete  experiences  and  retain  them  in  their  discreteness 
seems  like  looking  in  the  athlete's  muscles  for  the  separate 
exercises  whereby  they  have  grown  to  their  present  facility, 
or  like  looking  in  the  vocal  chords  of  a  singer  for  discrete 
representatives  of  all  the  songs  sung.  Counting  the  brain- 
cells,  again,  in  order  to  determine  the  range  of  possible 
knowledge,  seems  like  counting  the  strings  of  a  piano  to 
see  how  many  tunes  can  be  played  upon  it. 

This  view,  though  a  great  relief  from  the  unmanage- 
able complexity  and  fantastic  assumptions  of  the  previous 


112  PSYCHOLOGY. 

theory,  is  itself  far  from  clear.  The  notion  of  habit  is  an 
obscure  one,  which  cannot  be  represented  in  any  terms 
of  material  movement  and  grouping.  A  physical  system 
under  the  action  of  physical  forces  may  tend  toward  a 
state  of  molecular  equilibrium,  as  when  a  bell  acquires 
a  finer  tone  by  use ;  but  beyond  this,  improvement  cannot 
go.  This,  however,  is  anything  but  habit,  and  such  as  it 
is,  it  depends  upon  a  new  grouping  of  the  elements.  If 
now  the  view  in  question  recognizes  nothing  beyond  the 
physical  elements  in  the  brain,  it  must  base  the  growing 
facility  on  a  change  of  grouping.  The  elements  in  general 
have  no  habits  but  laws  ;  and  a  disposition  or  tendency 
which  is  not  the  result  of  some  grouping  is  unintelligible. 
A  pendulum  acquires  no  tendency  to  swing,  a  clock- 
hammer  forms  no  habit  of  striking.  But  if  we  base  the 
tendencies  of  the  brain  upon  a  change  of  grouping  in  the 
elements,  we  pass  back  into  the  previous  view.  But  if  we 
assume  some  mysterious  principle  besides  the  elements 
which  is  the  ground  and  subject  of  the  growing  facility, 
we  have  something  quite  as  mysterious  as  the  soul  itself  ; 
and  something  withal  which  seems  no  better  able  to  ex- 
plain reproduction  than  the  soul  itself.  The  assumption 
of  this  second  mystery  throws  no  light  on  the  general 
problem.  It  only  explains  the  obscure  by  the  obscurer. 
We  find  a  series  of  activities  in  the  mind  which  we  cannot 
deduce,  but  only  describe.  We  seek  to  explain  these  by 
a  series  of  hypothetical  activities  in  a  hypothetical  some- 
thing, and  are  so  pleased  with  our  effort  as  to  fail  to  in- 
quire whether  we  are  any  better  off  than  before.  In  many 
respects  this  view  is  worse  than  the  preceding  one.  The 
actual  order  of  association  is  left  even  more  obscure ;  for 
while  there  might  be  a  concurrent  excitation  of  connected 
cells,  it  is  extremely  hard  to  get  a  physical  representation 
of  associated  "facilities"  or  "dispositions." 

As  a  result  of  all  these  considerations,  we  conclude  that 


CEREBRAL  THEORY  OF  REPRODUCTION.      113 

physiology  is  not  able  to  construct  a  theory  of  representa- 
tive knowledge  which  shall  greatly  advance  psychological 
study.  In  no  case  can  cerebral  reproduction  dispense  with 
an  independent  mental  reproduction ;  and  hence,  apart 
from  its  grotesque  and  unmanageable  features,  it  is  a 
purely  gratuitous  hypothesis.  The  cerebral  theory,  with 
its  elegant  conception  of  "  unconscious  cerebration,"  is  a 
piece  of  physiological  metaphysics  which  does  great  honor 
to  the  objective  method  of  psychological  study. 

This  conclusion,  however,  does  not  imply  that  the  brain 
has  no  significance  for  reproduction ;  but  only  that  that 
significance  does  not  consist  in  being  an  organic  copy  of 
experience.  The  known  facts  simply  assure  us  that  the 
state  of  the  body  affects  the  memory,  as  well  as  the  other 
forms  of  mental  activity. 

The  only  sense  in  which  the  brain  can  be  called  the 
organ  of  memory  is  that  in  which  the  brain  is  the  organ 
of  thought.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  brain  does  the 
remembering  and  thinking  for  the  mind,  or  that  the  mind 
uses  the  brain  to  think  and  remember  with ;  both  of 
these  notions  are  absurd.  It  means  simply  that  the  brain 
conditions  the  mental  activities  of  thought  and  recollec- 
tion. This  simple  fact  of  experience  is  made  the  occasion 
for  the  fantastic  and  grotesque  whimsies  of  the  cerebral 
theory,  with  the  result  of  immensely  increasing  our  diffi- 
culties without  adding  any  insight.  Nor  are  we  in  any 
way  better  able  to  understand  the  disturbances  of  memory 
on  the  cerebral  theory,  than  on  any  other.  On  any  theory, 
these  disturbances  remain  facts  which  admit  of  only  a 
hypothetical  explanation.  For  example,  a  person  com- 
pletely loses  his  knowledge  of  a  given  language.  From 
the  psychological  side  such  a  fact  is  confessedly  myste- 
rious. We  must,  then,  seek  a  physiological  explanation. 
But  did  the  cells  which  stored  up  this  linguistic  wealth 
suddenly  vanish,  or  coalesce  ?  If  we  attribute  it  to  some 


114  PSYCHOLOGY 

paralysis  of  the  language  tract,  is  it  quite  clear  how  such 
paralysis  should  confine  itself  to  one  language  only  ?  And 
if  the  cells  do  not  vanish,  but  are  inhibited  in  their  repro- 
ductive action  by  some  unknown  circumstances,  is  that 
view  any  clearer  than  the  other,  that  the  soul  may  be 
inhibited  in  its  reproductive  action  by  untoward  physical 
or  mental  circumstances  ? 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR. 

SENSATIONS  constitute  a  first  order  of  mental  reaction 
against  external  action.  These  in  turn  become  the  ground 
of  a  second  order  of  mental  reaction.  This  second  order 
consists  in  a  working  over  of  the  sensations  into  rational 
forms,  or  in  their  interpretation  according  to  certain  ra- 
tional ideas.  In  this  process  appears  a  new  factor  of  the 
mental  life,  which  we  call  the  thought-factor.  We  propose 
to  show  that  such  a  factor  exists,  and  to  consider  some  of 
the  leading  ideas  according  to  which  the  thought-activity 
proceeds. 

At  this  point  we  reach  a  parting  of  the  ways  in  psy- 
chology. One  school  claims  that  sensibility  and  the  primary 
laws  of  association  among  sensations  and  their  representa- 
tions, account  for  all  that  is  in  the  mind.  In  this  view, 
there  is  no  specific  thought-activity  as  distinct  from  sensi- 
bility, but  all  the  so-called  higher  mental  faculties  can  be 
reduced  to  modifications  of  the  sensibility ;  and  all  appar- 
ently higher  ideas  are  only  modifications,  or  groupings,  of 
sensation.  The  primal  and  only  mental  reaction  is  found 
in  the  sensations.  When  these  are  produced,  there  is  no 
further  mental  interference  ;  but  they  enter  into  interaction 
according  to  the  laws  of  association,  and  thus  produce  and 
fashion  the  mental  life.  That  is,  after  the  sensations  are 
produced,  the  mind  becomes  the  passive  stage  or  back- 
ground across  which  they  move  according  to  laws  of  their 
own.  As  finding  the  principle  of  movement  and  synthesis 
in  association,  this  school  is  called  the  associational  school. 
As  viewing  experience  as  the  only  source  of  knowledge, 


116  PSYCHOLOGY. 

it  is  called  the  empirical  school.  As  holding  that  sensa- 
tion is  the  ultimate  unit  of  experience,  it  is  called  the 
sensational  school. 

Opposed  to  this  school  is  another,  which  denies  each  of 
the  preceding  claims.  It  holds  that  there  is  a  distinct 
thought-activity  which  cannot  be  reduced  to  the  sensibility, 
and  that  there  are  rational  ideas  which  are  forever  distinct 
from  sensation.  As  such,  it  may  be  called  the  rational 
school  of  psychology.  Further,  it  holds  that  experience, 
though  the  occasion,  and  in  this  sense  the  precondition,  ol 
knowledge,  is  nevertheless  not  the  only  source  of  knowl- 
edge. As  holding  that  the  mind  can  know  some  things  on 
its  own  account,  it  is  called  the  intuitive  school.  Finally, 
the  mind  is  not  simply  the  passive  seat  of .  mental  events, 
it  is  also  the  active  ground  of  many  of  its  own  activities. 

The  sensational  school  would  view  all  mental  movement 
as  an  occurrence  in  the  mind ;  the  rational  school  views 
some  mental  movement  at  least  as  an  activity  of  the 
mind. 

The  distinction  between  these  two  schools  has  a  psy- 
chological and  a  philosophical  aspect.  We  may  discuss 
Jhe  origin  of  our  ideas  and  faculties,  or  we  may  discuss 
the  grounds  of  belief.  In  the  former  case  the  claim  of  the 
sensational  school  is,  that  all  our  faculties  are  only  phases 
of  the  basal  processes  of  the  sensibility,  and  that  all  our 
ideas  can  be  deduced  from  the  same  source.  The  claim 
of  the  rational  school  is,  that  our  faculties  are  not  pro- 
ducts of  sense  experience,  but  factors  of  our  mental  consti- 
tution without  which  no  articulate  experience  would  be 
possible.  Rationalism  further  finds  the  origin  of  many  of 
our  ideas  in  the  mind  itself.  They  exist  in  the  mind  as 
constitutive  principles  prior  to  all  experience,  but  are  called 
into  action  only  by  experience.  In  this  sense,  they  are 
innate.  This  is  the  psychological  aspect  of  the  question. 

When  the  debate  concerns  the  grounds  of  belief,  the 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  117 

claim  of  empiricism  is,  that  experience  is  the  only  ground 
for  believing  any  proposition  whatever.  The  rational  school 
admits  this  claim  for  the  great  majority  of  propositions ; 
but  disputes  it  for  certain  others.  In  some  cases,  it  is 
held,  the  mind  can  transcend  its  particular  experiences, 
and  affirm  certain  propositions  to  be  universally  true  on 
the  basis  of  its  own  insight.  This  is  the  philosophical 
aspect  of  the  question.  Our  present  concern  is  entirely 
with  the  psychological  question. 

Historically,  sensationalism  has  been  very  wavering  and 
unclear  in  its  conception  of  sensation ;  and  most  of  its 
plausibility  is  due  to  this  fact.  We  have  pointed  out  that 
our  sensations  have  a  double  reference ;  first,  they  are  re- 
ferred to  the  self  as  their  subject;  and  second,  they  are 
referred  to  external  objects  as  their  qualities  or  as  caused 
by  them.  The  sensationalist  is  supposed  to  take '  sensa- 
tions as  simple  affections  of  the  sensibility,  which  have 
primarily  no  reference  to  anything  beyond  themselves ;  but 
in  not  a  little  of  his  exposition  the  objectified  and  rational- 
ized sensation  is  tacitly  taken  as  the  starting  point.  This 
inconsistency  is  to  be  guarded  against.  If  the  unreferred 
sensation  is  the  beginning,  the  reference  must  be  deduced  ; 
if  the  referred  sensation  is  the  beginning,  the  sensation 
itself  is  seen  to  involve  rational  elements,  and  the  view 
becomes  indistinguishable  from  the  instinct  philosophy  of 
common  sense.  We  shall  take  the  former  view  of  the 
doctrine. 

The  earlier  forms  of  the  doctrine  regarded  the  mind  as 
purely  receptive  and  passive.  It  was  compared  to  a  sheet 
of  white  paper,  upon  which  experience  delivered  itself,  free 
from  any  subjective  adulterations.  This  notion  was  based 
upon  the  uncritical  fancy  that  sensations  pass  ready  made 
into  the  mind,  and  without  any  modification.  The  doctrine 
of  the  subjectivity  of  sense  qualities,  however,  has  entirely 
deprived  this  fancy  of  all  credit ;  and  sensationalism  has 


118  PSYCHOLOGY. 

modified  itself  accordingly.  The  mental  outfit  which  it 
now  posits  is  sensibility  and  the  laws  of  association ;  and 
with  these  it  claims  to  exhibit  all  else  as  their  product. 
This  claim  is  to  be  examined. 

All  thought  and  knowledge  rest  ultimately  upon  a  pro- 
cess of  discrimination,  comparison,  and  assimilation.  Even 
the  single  sensation  is  not  properly  known  as  long  as  it 
is  only  an  affection  of  the  sensibility ;  for  sensation  as 
a  state  of  feeling  is  not  necessarily  a  clear  mental  object. 
A  child  whose  appetite  is  satisfied,  and  whose  body  is  com- 
fortably warm  and  at  ease  in  all  respects,  is  doubtless  in 
a  pleasant  state  of  feeling ;  but  it  has  no  rational  appre- 
hension of  the  fact.  The  dog  on  the  rug  and  the  cat  on 
the  hearth  are  probably  very  comfortable,  but  it  is  doubtful  ' 
if  they  can  be  said  to  know  it.  Before  the  sensitive  state 
can  properly  become  a  mental  object,  it  must  be  discrimi- 
nated from  the  self  as  its  state,  and  set  over  against  the 
self  as  its  object.  And  even  this  would  imply  only  a  gen- 
eral objectification  of  the  object,  and  no  definite  knowledge. 
In  order  to  reach  an  intimate  knowledge,  the  sensation 
must  be  classified  and  related.  It  is  hardly  known  at  all 
until  it  is  known  as  one  of  a  kind ;  and  in  order  to  this,  it 
must  be  discriminated  from  the  unlike  and  assimilated  to 
the  like.  Until  this  is  done,  we  have  a  feeling  without  a 
clearly  defined  content,  and  one  to  which  we  can  give  no 
definite  place  in  our  mental  system. 

The  primal  and  basal  short-coming  of  sensationalism  is 
failure  to  notice  the  implications  of  this  fact.  Hence  it 
has  assumed  that  to  have  like  or  unlike  experiences  is 
equivalent  to  a  knowledge  of  their  likeness  or  unlikeness  ; 
or  to  have  coexistent  and  sequent  experiences  is  to  have 
a  knowledge  of  coexistence  or  sequence.  In  general,  it  is 
assumed  that  the  existence  of  relations  among  the  objects 
of  experience  is  the  same  as  a  knowledge  of  those  relations. 
The  likeness  or  unlikeness  of  two  experiences  is  supposed 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR. 

to  be  identical  with  our  knowledge  of  them  as  such.  The 
interaction  or  association  of  ideas  may  then  be  relied  on 
to  integrate  like  ideas  and  to  dissociate  unlike  ideas ;  and 
this  is  a  judgment  of  likeness  or  unlikeness.  Experience 
also  gives  us  experiences  in  coexistence  and  sequence,  and 
this  is  a  judgment  of  coexistence  and  sequence.  Thus  the 
judgment  appears  as  no  special  faculty,  but  as  a  necessary 
outcome  of  sensation  and  association.  Association,  then, 
can  give  us  propositions ;  and  by  uniting  propositions  it  can 
give  us  reasoning.  Thus  the  entire  life  appears  as  a  phase 
of  the  sensibility  and  the  basal  process  of  association. 

Unfortunately,  this  view  is  too  easy  and  complete  to  be 
above  suspicion.  Let  us  see,  then,  where  the  interaction 
and  association  of  sensations  bring  us.  Suppose  that  the 
sensations  of  a  strong  light,  a,  and  of  a  weak  one,  5,  should 
arise  simultaneously  in  consciousness.  If  now  they  interact 
mechanically,  we  should  expect  them  to  flow  together  into 
a  common  resultant,  <?,  in  which  a  and  b  should  disappear 
entirely.  When  two  forces,  a  and  6,  act  upon  a  material 
element  at  the  same  time,  they  have  a  single  resultant,  r, 
in  which  all  traces  of  a  and  b  have  disappeared.  This, 
however,  does  not  take  place  in  consciousness ;  but  a  and 
b  remain  distinct  and  unmodified  in  their  content.  Only 
on  this  condition  is  a  judgment  possible.  The  union  of  a 
and  b  in  c  would  give  no  hint  of  the  relations  of  a  and  b. 
But  how  a  and  b  can  be  kept  separate,  and  at  the  same  time 
be  brought  together  in  the  spaceless,  partitionless  field  of 
thought,  is  the  impenetrable  and  unparalleled  mystery  of 
consciousness.  A  knowledge  of  the  relations  of  a  and  b  is 
reached  only  as  a  and  b  remain  separate  and  self-identical, 
and  as  a  unitary  subject,  M,  grasps,  discriminates,  and  com- 
pares a  and  b  in  the  same  act  of  consciousness,  and  thus 
forms  the  judgment  that  a  is  greater  or  stronger  than  b. 
Out  of  such  an  act  of  comparison  may  arise  a  qualitative 
judgment  of  likeness  or  unlikeness,  or  a  quantitative  judg- 


120  PSYCHOLOGY. 

mcnt  of  equivalence,  or  of  greater  or  less,  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  objects  compared.  But  this  act  is  not  an  in- 
teraction of  the  sensations  ;  it  is  an  activity  upon  the  sen- 
sations. The  utmost  that  association  could  do  would  be  to 
present  similar  ideas  before  consciousness ;  it  could  not  pro- 
duce the  judgment.  In  short,  likeness  and  unlikeness  are 
not  things,  and  cannot  be  given  in  any  sense  experience. 
They  are  not  properties  of  the  sensations  as  such ;  but  ate 
rather  ideas  which  arise  when  the  mind  brings  its  several 
states  into  the  unity  of  a  single  act  of  discrimination  and 
comparison.  However  like  or  unlike  our  states  might  be  in 
themselves,  the  knowledge  of  their  likeness  or  unlikeness 
is  possible  only  as  there  is  an  activity  above  and  apart 
from  the  sensations,  which  distinguishes  them  as  objects 
and  unites  them  under  the  forms  of  the  judgment. 

Let  us  vary  the  statement.  Assume,  then,  that  a,  a,  b, 5, 
c,  c,  d,  <7,  are  sensations  in  a  purely  sensitive  mind,  and 
allow  that  association  should  form  the  groups  a  a,  b  b, 
c  c,  dd.  Still  there  is  no  provision  for  the  perception  of 
the  likeness  or  unlikeness.  Each  sensation  is  a  particular 
affection  of  the  sensibility,  and  cannot  even  know  of  its 
neighbors'  existence,  to  say  nothing  of  its  passing  a  judg- 
ment upon  them.  There  is  no  movement  possible  until 
M  distinguishes  the  sensations  from  itself  and  from  one 
another,  and,  bringing  them  together  in  an  act  of  com- 
parison, unites  them  in  the  judgment  of  likeness  or  unlike- 
ness. The  sensationalist  dispenses  with  this  activity  by 
doing  the  work  himself.  He,  the  speculator,  stands  apart 
from  aa,bb,  etc. ;  and,  seeing  that  they  are  like  or  unlike, 
he  mistakes  his  perception  of  likeness  or  unlikeness  for 
its  perception  by  the  mental  states  themselves. 

Plainly,  sensations  with  reference  to  that  discrimination, 
comparison,  and  assimilation  upon  which  knowledge  de- 
pends, are  in  the  passive  mood.  They  do  not  discriminate, 
compare,  and  assimilate  themselves ;  they  are  discriminated, 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  121 

compared,  and  assimilated.  The  assimilation  possible  to 
association  is  a  concurrent  presentation  of  similar  ele- 
ments ;  the  assimilation  which  knowledge  demands  is  the 
recognition  of  this  similarity,  and  a  reference  of  the  ele- 
ments to  a  common  class.  Associative  assimilation  may 
have  great  significance  as  a  condition  of  rational  assimila- 
tion, but  can  never  pass  into  it.  The  discriminating  and 
assimilating  subject  must  stand  apart  from  the  sensational 
series ;  and  its  activity  is  not  an  activity  of  sensation,  but 
an  activity  upon  sensation. 

A  similar  argument  is  possible  for  the  knowledge  of 
relations  in  general.  Existence  in  relations  is  not  identical 
with  a  knowledge  of  those  relations.  Likeness  or  unlike- 
ncss  of  experience  is  not  an  experience  of  likeness  or 
unlikeness.  Coexistence  in  consciousness  is  not  a  con- 
sciousness of  coexistence.  Sequence  in  consciousness  is 
not  a  consciousness  of  sequence.  Plurality  in  experience 
is  not  an  experience  of  plurality.  The  likeness,  the  co- 
existence, the  sequence,  the  plurality,  may  be  there ;  but 
in  order  to  secure  their  recognition  there  must  be  an 
activity  of  the  mind  upon  the  objects  in  question,  which 
shall  compare  them  and  affirm  the  relations  in  question. 
Of  course,  relations  could  not  be  established  if  the  things 
were  not  in  themselves  relatable ;  but  this  relatability  is 
not  identical  with  the  knowledge  of  the  relations.  Likeness 
and  unlikeness  in  general  cannot  be  made  by  the  mind,  but 
only  discerned ;  at  the  same  time  the  likeness  or  unlikeness 
in  experience  emerges  into  knowledge  only  through  a  spe- 
cial activity  above,  and  upon,  the  experience. 

We  conclude,  then,  that  the  mental  life  reveals  two 
entirely  distinct  processes ;  (1.)  the  movements  and  affec- 
tions of  the  sensibility,  and  (2.)  an  activity  upon  them 
which  results  in  the  judgment,  the  establishment  of  rela- 
tions, and  thus  in  rational  knowledge.  This  activity  is 
essentially  what  we  mean  by  the  thought-process. 


122  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  existence  of  an  activity  above  sensation  is  shown  by 
the  most  familiar  experiences.  When  an  affection  of  the 
sensibility  is  simple,  it  seems  as  if  the  sensation  and  our 
knowledge  of  it  were  strictly  the  same ;  but  when  the  sen- 
sation or  representation  is  complex,  the  difference  plainly 
appears.  Thus,  when  we  view  a  complex  but  unfamiliar 
object,  we  have  a  complete  sensation ;  yet  we  cannot  tell 
what  we  have  seen,  owing  to  the  failure  to  establish  rela- 
tions among  the  component  elements  of  the  object.  Again, 
when  we  look  at  a  large  number  of  objects,  or  a  figure  with 
many  sides,  we  have  the  same  result.  The  sensation  is 
perfect,  but  knowledge  is  lacking.  Nor  is  knowledge  pos- 
sible until  the  mind  has  reacted  upon  the  sensation,  and 
by  a  process  of  counting  and  construction  mastered  its  sig- 
nificance. Again,  we  may  pronounce  a  sentence  whose 
words  are  all  familiar ;  as,  Peter's  wife's  mother's  uncle's 
sister's  husband  is  coming  to  see  us.  In  such  a  case  we 
might  be  greatly  puzzled  to  identify  an  understanding  of 
the  words  expressing  the  relation  with  a  comprehension 
of  the  relation  expressed.  Nor  will  any  mere  staring  at 
the  object  help  us  to  knowledge.  Objects  cannot  count 
themselves.  The  eyes  cannot  count  them.  The  plurality 
of  sensations  constitutes  the  countable,  not  the  counted. 
The  significance  of  attention  does  not  consist  in  an  in- 
tenser  stare,  but  in  a  new  order  of  activity,  the  establishment 
of  relations  among  the  elements  of  the  sense  experience. 
These  facts  show  that  sensation  may  be  complete  and 
knowledge  be  lacking;  and  they  cancel  the  attempt  to 
identify  sensation  with  the  knowledge  resulting  from  it. 
Indeed,  even  pathology  often  reveals  these  elements  as 
distinct.  In  the  so-called  "  soul-blindness "  the  sensitive 
function  is  undisturbed,  while  the  rational  function  is  re- 
pressed. Finally,  our  scientific  activity  perpetually  carries 
us  beyond  sensations,  to  a  great  system  of  rational  construc- 
tion which  was  never  revealed  to  sense.  But  so  slovenly 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  123 

has  been  the  thinking  of  sensationalism  that  it  has  seldom 
scrupled  to  adopt  the  terminology  and  distinctions  of  both 
science  and  rational  philosophy  without  ever  inquiring 
whether  they  are  possible  on  a  sensational  basis.  The 
distinction  of  primary  and  secondary  qualities  is  a  case 
in  point.  This  distinction  has  no  meaning  for  sensational- 
ism ;  but  is  borrowed  from  the  opposite  view. 

We  resume  the  illustration  already  given.  If  we  regard 
sensations  as  a  first  order  of  mental  reaction  against  exter- 
nal action,  we  must  regard  this  knowledge  of  relations  as 
due  to  a  second  order  of  mental  reaction,  and  one  which 
makes  the  sensations  and  representations  its  proper  object. 
Or,  as  we  regard  the  external  stimulus  as  the  excitant  which 
leads  the  mind  to  react  with  sensation,  so  we  may  regard 
the  qualities  of  sensation  in  relation  to  one  another  as  the 
excitant  which  leads  the  mind  to  react  with  the  thought- 
activity.  But  just  as  the  external  stimulus  produces  no 
sensation  except  as  it  affects  the  peculiar  sensitive  nature 
of  the  mind,  so  the  sensations  themselves  could  never  rise 
into  rationality  except  as  they  furnish  the  occasion  for 
the  higher  mental  nature  to  unfold  itself. 

With  regard  to  the  deduction  of  the  higher  from  the 
lower  forms  of  mental  activity,  sensationalists  have  always 
overlooked  the  ambiguity  in  the  facts  of  mental  develop- 
ment. They  will  have  it  that  what  comes  after  must  be 
a  transformation  of  what  went  before ;  whereas  it  may  be 
a  new  and  special  manifestation  of  the  mental  nature  in 
general.  This  possibility  is  one  we  constantly  see  realized 
in  nature.  Cohesion,  affinity,  repulsion,  are  not  transformed 
gravity,  though  they  are  manifested  only  after  the  elements 
have  been  brought  together  by  gravity.  They  are.  special 
and  irreducible  functions  of  the  elements,  although  con- 
ditioned in  their  manifestation.  Before  we  draw  the  sen- 
sationalists' conclusion,  we  must  examine  the  new  functions 
and  see  if  they  can  be  regarded  as  phases  of  the  old  ones, 


124  PSYCHOLOGY. 

or  whether  they  have  special  and  irreducible  peculiarities 
which  compel  us  to  view  them  as  new,  though  conditioned, 
manifestations  of  the  mental  nature. 

Oversight  of  this  possibility  has  made  a  large  part  of  sen- 
sational polemics  quite  irrelevant.  Great  efforts  have  been 
made  to  show  that  sensations  were  first;  as  if  this  were 
ever  disputed.  But  a  recital  of  the  order  of  mental  devel- 
opment decides  nothing  as  to  its  factors  or  the  forces  which 
carry  it  on.  An  apple  tree  may  live  for  years  before  it 
bears  apples,  and  it  may  even  be  hindered  from  ever  bear- 
ing ;  yet  that  does  not  prove  that  apples  are  the  outcome 
of  the  tree's  experience  apart  from  any  determining  law  in 
the  tree  itself.  Temporal  sequence  in  either  physical  or 
mental  development  does  not  decide  whether  the  new  fact 
is  a  transformation  of  the  past  or  the  manifestation  of  an 
immanent  law. 

But  this  notion  of  a  transformation  of  mental  elements 
rests  upon  an  implicit  hypostasis  of  mental  states.  As 
was  pointed  out  in  treating  of  the  simplicity  of  sensations, 
sensations  are  tacitly  viewed  as  self-identical  things,  or  as 
a  kind  of  mental  raw  material  which  may  be  made  into  a 
great  many  mental  compounds,  while  at  the  same  time  they 
remain  self-identical  and  never  leave  the  plane  of  their  own 
sensational  nature.  But  this  fancy  disappears  when  we 
see  that  sensations  are  simply  mental  functions.  There 
is  no  mental  stuff  in  them  which  admits  of  transformation ; 
and  we  might  as  well  regard  the  later  notes  in  a  melody 
as  transformations  of  the  preceding  ones,  as  view  later 
mental  states  as  transformations  of  their  antecedents.  A 
replacement  of  one  form  of  function  by  another  is  all  that 
is  possible. 

When,  then,  sensations  a,  6,  c,  d  are  followed  by  a  new 
form  of  mental  action,  it  is  absurd  to  view  the  latter  as  a 
phase  of  the  former.  We  can  only  regard  it  as  a  new  re- 
action of  the  mind  against  its  sense  experience.  But  in 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  125 

order  to  do  this  the  mind  must  be  more  than  sensitive. 
In  a  mind  whose  nature  is  fully  expressed  in  the  sensations 
a,  b,  c,  cZ,  there  is  no  assignable  reason  for  movement ;  just 
as  in  physical  elements  whose  nature  is  fully  expressed  in 
the  law  of  gravitation  there  is  no  possibility  of  chemical 
combination.  Advance  becomes  possible  only  as  along  with 
a,  b,  c,  d  we  assume  a  nature,  Jf,  for  whose  unfolding  a,  b,  c,  d 
are  but  conditions.  That  X  contains  the  law  of  the  move- 
ment and  its  assumption,  can  never  be  escaped.  Indeed, 
this  is  true  for  the  different  classes  of  sensations  them- 
selves. There  is  no  way  of  deducing  sensations  of  sound 
from  those  of  light,  but  for  each  class  we  have  to  assume 
some  peculiar  endowment  of  the  soul.  That  they  are 
classed  together  as  sensations  in  no  way  removes  their 
absolute  difference.  Classification  neither  makes  identity 
nor  abolishes  distinction. 

Thinking  proceeds  by  distinction  and  comparison.  But 
there  can  be  neither  distinction  nor  comparison  in  general. 
Both  processes  imply  some  common  relation  under  which 
the  objects  are  subsumed ;  and  this  common  relation  alone 
makes  them  possible.  Things  can  be  neither  like  nor 
unlike  in  general,  but  only  in  some  common  relation,  as 
quantity,  quality,  number,  space,  time,  dependence,  etc. 
Things  which  are  alike  are  such  in  some  respect  common 
to  both.  Things  which  are  unlike  are  such  in  some  rela- 

o 

tion  under  which  they  are  subsumed.  This  common  rela- 
tion the  scholastics  called  the  tertium  quid  comparationis. 
It  is  the  necessary  implication  of  every  act  of  compari- 
son and  discrimination,  and  hence  of  every  judgment. 
The  judgment  is  an  affirmation  of  relation  under  some 
of  these  general  heads.  Thus,  all  mathematical  judg- 
ments express  some  relation  under  the  general  notions 
of  figure,  .number,  and  quantity.  Attributive  judgments 
depend  on  the  conception  of  substance  and  attribute.  All 
judgments  which  affirm  a  dynamic  dependence  of  one 


126  PSYCHOLOGY. 

thing  on  another  come  under  the  general  relation  of 
causation. 

It  is  oversight  of  this  fact  which  underlies  most  of  the 
satisfaction  and  dissatisfaction  felt  with  the  statement  that 
thought  is  only  an  activity  of  discrimination  and  com- 
parison. The  sensationalists  have  rejoiced  in  it,  and  many 
others  have  grieved  over  it.  The  truth  is  that  the  joy  is 
entirely  misplaced,  and  the  grief  largely  so.  For  if  objects 
may  be  distinguished  as  cause  and  effect,  substance  and 
attribute,  reality  and  appearance,  we  bring  in  the  whole 
apparatus  of  the  rational  philosophy  through  the  very  door 
opened  by  the  sensationalists.  It  is,  then,  only  a  question 
whether  some  few  judgments  may  not  be  better  described 
as  the  bringing  of  a  given  subject  directly  under  the  head 
of  the  relation.  The  normal  ideas  are  equally  necessary 
in  either  case.  The  sensationalist  gains  nothing ;  and  for 
the  intuitionalist  it  must  at  last  reduce  to  a  question  of 
expression. 

Hence  a  study  of  the  thought  activity  demands  some 
notice  of  those  general  relations  which  thought  finds,  or 
establishes,  among  its  objects.  They  have  been  variously 
called  the  categories  of  thought,  norms  of  distinction  and 
comparison,  regulative  ideas,  etc.  Some  of  these  expres- 
sions may  be  better  than  others,  but  the  meaning  is  the 
same  in  all. 

We  proceed  to  notice  the  leading  relations  under  which 
knowledge  is  constituted.  Our  inquiry,  however,  will  hate 
to  do  with  their  psychological  nature  and  origin,  rather 
than  with  their  metaphysical  significance. 

Likeness  and  unlikeness  are  not  independent  notions. 
They  always  demand  for  their  understanding  some  general 
relation  with  reference  to  which  the  likeness  or  unlikeness 
exists.  Things  may  be  like  or  unlike  in  form,  or  quality, 
or  quantity,  or  function,  etc.,  but  they  cannot  be  like  or 
unlike  in  general.  Moreover,  these  ideas  admit  of  no 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  127 

definition  in  their  essential  elements ;  that  is,  what  they 
mean  can  never  be  told,  but  only  experienced.  All  that 
can  be  done  in  the  way  of  communicating  them  to  another 
is  to  prescribe  a  certain  form  of  mental  activity,  in  the 
hope  that  as  the  result  thereof  the  other  will  experience 
in  himself  the  meaning  we  seek  to  communicate. 

These  ideas  arise  only  as  two  or  more  experiences  or 
objects  are  at  once  discriminated  and  compared  in  the 
same  act  of  consciousness.  When  this  act,  which  cannot 
be  construed  or  further  described,  is  performed,  then  there 
arises  the  idea  of  likeness  or  unlikeness,  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  objects.  In  particular,  qualitative  likeness 
and  unlikeness  admit  of  no  description.  Quantitative  like- 
ness and  unlikeness  are  perceived  when  two  or  more  cases 
of  a  common  quality  are  compared.  Here  the  mind  com- 
paring two  or  more  cases  perceives  a  peculiar  identity  or 
change  in  its  inner  state  as  it  passes  from  one  to  another, 
which  change,  moreover,  is  reversed  when  the  order  of 
mental  movement  is  reversed.  This  fact  is  the  basis  of 
all  ideas  of  quantitative  equivalence,  or  of  greater  and  less 
in  quantity.  But  these  ideas,  though  ultimately  based 
upon  the  sensibility,  are  not  functions  of  the  sensibility. 
They  rather  represent  a  new  and  higher  form  of  mental 
function. 

The  process  just  described  is  the  one  by  which  the 
mind  proceeds  in  all  classification  and  division.  In  this 
way  arises  all  that  we  mean  by  general  or  class  notions. 
Given  experiences  or  objects  are  discriminated  from  others 
unlike  them,  and  assimilated  to  others  like  them ;  and  thus 
the  notion  of  classes  is  reached.  The  claim  is  often  made 
that  class  notions  arise  through  purely  associative  assimi- 
lation ;  but  we  have  already  seen  its  untenability. 

Time  expresses  an  order  of  relations  which  can  be  under- 
stood only  in  terms  of  itself.  All  the  various  definitions 
of  it  either  imply  it,  or  are  other  names  for  the  same  thing. 


128  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Metaphysics  finds  reasons  for  doubting  the  existence  of 
time  as  an  independent  reality  in  which  events  occur ;  but 
the  psychological  question  as  to  the  origin  and  function 
of  the  notion  is  independent  of  the  metaphysical  theory. 
However  real  time  may  be,  the  subjective  origin  of  the 
notion  will  be  the  same  as  in  the  ideal  theory  ;  and  how- 
ever ideal  time  may  be  as  an  existence,  its  actual  function 
in  our  mental  life  will  be  unchanged. 

No  inspection  of  consciousness  will  reveal  to  us  the  origin 
of  this  idea,  inasmuch  as  the  idea  is  always  there  long  before 
the  reflective  consciousness  begins  the  inquiry.  We  can 
only  study  some  of  its  logical  conditions.  Whence  comes 
the  idea  of  time  ? 

A  first  suggestion  might  be  that  time  is  a  quality  of  all 
mental  states  from  sensation  on ;  but  this  would  be  a 
mistake.  For  time,  considered  as  the  relation  of  ante- 
cedence and  sequence,  is  not  a  quality  of  mental  states  at 
all.  It  is  a  relation  among  them  which  in  no  way  affects 
their  qualitative  character ;  and  this  character,  in  turn,  in 
no  way  determines  the  temporal  relation.  The  two  are 
conceived,  even  by  common  sense,  as  mutually  indifferent. 
But  if  we  say  that  time,  as  duration,  is  a  quality  of  all 
mental  states,  the  objection  meets  us  that  duration  is  an 
utterly  impossible  idea  apart  from  an  assumed  sequence 
of  temporal  moments. 

The  next  thought  of  common  sense,  and  the  traditional 
doctrine  of  sensationalism,  have  been  that  the  simple  se- 
quence of  sensations  is  identical  with  the  idea  of  sequence  ; 
and  then  by  abstraction  from  the  sense  experience  we  get 
the  notion  of  time  as  a  whole.  But  this  is  only  the  tra- 
ditional error  already  referred  to,  namely,  that  relation 
among  the  objects  of  knowledge  is  the  same  as  a  knowl- 
edge of  their  relation  .  In  fact,  however,  a  sequence  of 
ideas  is  so  far  from  being  an  idea  of  sequence,  that,  if  there 
were  nothing  but  the  former,  the  latter  could  never  arise. 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  129 

The  reality  of  sequence  does  not  help  us  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  same.  If  we  assume  a  series  of  sequent  activities 
in  the  outer  world,  and  assume  further  that  these  affect  us, 
still  we  provide  only  for  a  sequence  of  ideas,  and  not  for 
an  idea  of  sequence.  If  a  should  vanish  from  conscious- 
ness and  b  should  appear,  there  would  be  a  succession  of 
a  and  b  in  consciousness,  but  no  consciousness  of  suc- 
cession. Or  if  \ve  should  assume  that  consciousness  is  an 
inalienable  quality  of  a  and  5,  this  consciousness  does  not 
provide  for  a  consciousness  of  the  temporal  relations  of  a 
and  b  ;  in  order  to  this,  we  should  need  a  consciousness 
of  a  second  order. 

Memory  and  self-consciousness  are  necessary  conditions 
for  the  emergence  of  the  ideas  of  time.  There  is  no  rea- 
son for  thinking  that  in  a  changeless  state  the  idea  would 
ever  arise.  Where  all  changes,  the  idea  is  impossible. 
Where  nothing  changes,  the  idea  is  equally  impossible. 
This  union  of  the  changing  and  the  changeless  is  given 
in  self-consciousness,  where  the  abiding  self  as  given  in 
memory  is  contrasted  with  its  changing  states.  Until  this 
is  done,  there  may  be  a  sequence  of  states,  but  no  knowl- 
edge of  this  sequence.  If  we  seek  to  get  the  idea  from  the 
fact  that  some  elements  of  consciousness  are  fixed  com- 
pared with  others,  and  thus  give  use  to  a  fixed  background 
upon  which  the  temporal  sequence  may  be  projected,  we 
merely  fall  back  again  into  the  old  error  of  mistaking 
sequence  of  ideas  for  an  idea  of  sequence.  No  relation 
of  the  elements  of  consciousness  among  themselves  can 
give  the  idea  ;  they  can  only  furnish  the  occasion  for  its 
development. 

This  reference  to  memory,  however,  does  not  quite  reach 
the  root  of  the  matter ;  for  while  memory  serves  to  bring 
the  idea  into  consciousness,  memory  in  turn  implies  time. 
Memory  becomes  properly  such  only  as  its  objects  are 
given  in  temporal  relations  Apart  from  these,  memory 

9 


130  PSYCHOLOGY. 

is  only  a  reproduction  of  experiences  without  any  hint  of 
our  having  had  them  previously.  Nor  will  association  in 
any  way  help  us.  This,  too,  could  only  give  us  the  se- 
quence of  ideas,  and  not  the  idea  of  sequence.  There  is 
nothing  to  do  but  to  declare  that  the  time  idea  rests  ulti- 
mately upon  an  original  and  peculiar  mental  principle, 
whereby  it  connects  its  experiences  under  the  special  form 
of  sequence.  To  return  to  a  previous  statement,  the  con- 
ception of  sequence  would  be  impossible  if  there  were  only 
a  sequence  of  conceptions.  All  the  conceptions  which 
enter  into  a  perception  of  sequence  coexist  in  one  form  or 
another  in  the  present  consciousness.  That  which  con- 
stitutes their  temporal  order  is  not  any  existing  succession, 
but  the  peculiar  form  of  their  relation  within  the  field  of 
consciousness.  Hence  the  act  of  consciousness  by  which 
relations  of  sequence  are  grasped  must  itself  be  without' 
any  temporal  distinctions  in  itself ;  and  in  this  sense  the 
consciousness  of  time  is  non-temporal.  All  knowledge  of 
the  past  is  in  the  present.  All  ideas  which  represent  the 
past  are  in  the  present.  Their  actual  relation  in  the  mind 
is  not  a  temporal  one,  but  rather  a  peculiar  and  unpictura- 
ble  order  of  connection,  to  which  consciousness  gives  the 
form  of  antecedence  and  sequence.  This  does  not  deny 
that  there  may  be  a  real  temporal  order  in  the  world  out- 
side of  us ;  it  only  expresses  the  conditions  of  our  becom- 
ing conscious  of  a  temporal  order. 

These  conditions  may  be  summed  up  as  follows :  (1.) 
Change  in  consciousness  ;  (2.)  Identity  of  the  conscious 
subject ;  (3.)  A  comparison  of  this  change  with  the  abid- 
ing subject ;  (4.)  A  relation  of  the  objects  of  experience 
under  the  form  of  antecedence  and  sequence.  It  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  these  conditions  decide  nothing  as  to 
the  psychological  history  of  the  idea.  It  is  not  meant  that 
the  idea  emerges  full-fledged  upon  the  first  act  of  compari- 
son. It  is  possible  that  sensations  may  come  and  go  for 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  131 

a  long  time  without  evoking  the  idea;  and  when  it  is 
evoked,  it  will  appear,  not  in  a  general  and  abstract  form, 
but  in  a  concrete  and  confused  application.  But  whenever 
and  however  it  may  come,  it  must  come  from  within. 

Kant  held  that  the  idea  of  time  depends  on  the  idea  of 
causation ;  because  a  series  can  exist  only  as  the  position 
of  its  members  is  determined,  that  is,  caused.  There 
seems  to  be  here-  a  confusion  of  the  series  as  occurring, 
and  our  temporal  apprehension  of  it.  The  series  as  occur- 
ring is  possible  only  through  the  fact  of  causation ;  and 
our  thought  of  it  as  occurring  demands  for  its  completion 
the  notion  of  causation.  But  our  temporal  apprehension 
of  the  series  need  contain  no  trace  of  the  causal  idea,  as 
especially  appears  from  the  fact  that  in  inductive  science 
our  determination  of  causation  is  always  successive  to  the 
determination  of  temporal  sequence.  It  is  the  latter  which 
suggests  the  former. 

It  is  important  to  make  clear  to  ourselves  that  this 
fundamental  relation  of  antecedence  and  sequence  cannot 
be  reached  by  any  process  of  abstraction.  Objects  cannot 
exist  for  the  mind  in  a  temporal  relation  until  the  mind 
by  a  special  synthesis  or  act  of  relation  has  put  them  into 
temporal  relations.  It  is  this  synthesis  which  constitutes 
the  temporal  series  for  us.  Objects  may  possibly  exist  in 
time  apart  from  our  minds  ;  but  in  order  to  exist  in  time 
for  us  the  external  synthesis  must  be  internally  repro- 
duced, and  this  is  possible  only  as  the  successive  experi- 
ences excite  the  mind  to  unite  them  under  a  temporal 
form.  Hence,  all  that  the  abstraction  could  give  us  would 
be  the  form  of  the  synthesis  after  it  has  taken  place,  or 
the  law  which  governs  it. 

Psychologically,  time,  then,  is  primarily  the  law  or  prin- 
ciple which  compels  the  mind  to  connect  its  experiences 
and  all  conceptions  of  events  in  general  under  the  form  of 
antecedence  and  sequence.  Secondarily,  time  is  the  form 


132  PSYCHOLOGY. 

of  this  synthesis.  As  applying  to  all  events  alike,  no  mat- 
ter what  their  qualitative  difference,  this  form  of  synthesis 
may  be  called  universal.  As  belonging  to  the  laws  of  the 
mind  itself,  it  may  be  called  apriori.  At  the  same  time  it 
can  have  no  significance  apart  from  experience,  and,  like 
all  mental  functions,  is  first  excited  by  experience.  What 
we  get  when  we  drop  the  experienced  content  and  seek  to 
abstract  the  pure  notion  of  time,  is  simply  the  law  or  form 
of  the  synthesis.  This  form,  moreover,  because  applicable 
to  all  events,  contains  no  limitation  in  itself.  Like  a  recur- 
ring series  in  numbers  it  has  no  stopping  place,  and  hence 
seems  limitless.  In  this  way  the  notion  of  time  without 
beginning  or  end  arises.  No  event  can  be  conceived  which 
cannot,  or  must  not,  be  brought  into  temporal  relations. 
Empty  time,  or  pure  time,  is  merely  the  phantom  of  this 
form  of  synthesis.  The  all-embracing  time  means  really 
an  all-embracing  formula. 

The  unity  of  time  arises  in  the  same  way.  All  the 
objects  of  experience,  and  all  events  actually  occurring, 
are  united  together  in  a  common  series ;  and  hence  they 
are  said  to  occur  at  various  moments  of  one  and  the  same 
time.  But  we  often  give  the  temporal  form  to  mental 
objects,  without  thought  of  any  relation  to  cosmic  time. 
Thus  the  development  of  a  drama,  or  of  a  story,  or  of  our 
private  castle-building,  takes  place  under  the  form  of  time  ; 
but  this  time  of  the  imagination  has  no  relation  to  the  time 
of  reality.  It  is  the  unity  and  continuity  of  the  world- 
process,  real  or  imagined,  which  constitutes  the  unity  of 
time. 

Temporal  relations  cannot  be  pictured.  All  attempts  to 
picture  them  rest  upon  misleading  space  images.  Time  is 
figured  as  a  line,  or  as  a  moving  point,  and  even  as  a  limit- 
less sphere,  which  contains  both  things  and  events ;  but 
all  of  these  conceptions  are  borrowed  from  space,  and  are 
incompatible  with  the  idea  of  time.  All  the  parts  of  a  line 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  133 

coexist;  but  the  time  line  exists  only  in  one  point,  the 
present.  The  moving  point,  again,  implies  a  space  in 
which  to  move.  The  spherical  time  coexists  in  all  its 
parts,  and  thus  the  idea  itself  is  denied.  It  only  remains 
that  time  must  be  understood  in  terms  of  itself.  It  is  the 
one  bond  of  relation  whereby  all  events,  both  in  the  inner 
and  in  the  outer  world,  are  bound  together ;  and  the  estab- 
lishment of  temporal  relations  is  one  of  the  first  steps 
toward  that  unification  of  its  objects  which  is  the  supreme 
goal  of  intelligence. 

Psychological  time  may  be  regarded  as  reproducing  in 
thought  a  temporal  order  objectively  existing.  The  con-' 
sideration  of  this  question  belongs  to  the  theory  of  knoAvl- 
edge;  and  the  nature  of  this  objective  time  is  a  problem 
for  metaphysics. 

Space  is  a  leading  category  in  external  perception.  The 
objects  of  perception  become  such  only  as  they  take  on 
spatial  forms  and  enter  into  spatial  relations.  This  cate- 
gory, with  its  implications  of  extension,  direction,  and  dis- 
tance, seems  at  first  so  clear  and  self-satisfying  that  no 
question  can  be  raised  about  it.  Things  are  in  .space,  and 
we  know  them  directly  as  such.  But  this  self-evidence 
disappears  on  reflection.  Things  are  known  only  through 
the  sensations  which  they  produce  in  us ;  and  how  can 
we  pass  from  these  sensations  to  the  notion  of  things  ex- 
tended in  space  ?  Moreover,  sensations  are  in  perpetual 
flow ;  how  can  we  pass  from  their  constant  change  to  the 
changeless  relations  of  space  ?  Whence  comes  the  idea  of 
space  ? 

Several  answers  are  given :  (1.)  It  is  held  that  things 
are  immediately  known  as  extended  and  in  space.  (2.)  It 
is  held  that  the  sensations  themselves  are  extended  and 
external  to  one  another,  and  that  we  simply  recognize  the 
fact.  From  a  knowledge  of  them  as  extended  and  mutually 
external  we  pass  by  experience  to  our  general  knowledge 


134  PSYCHOLOGY. 

of  space.  (3.)  Space  is  viewed  as  a  mental  principle  which 
compels  the  mind  to  give  its  objects  space  forms  and  space 
relations.  Just  as  the  reaction  of  the  mind  against  ner- 
vous action  with  sensation  is  due  to  the  nature  of  the 
mind,  so  the  intuition  of  these  sensations  under  the  form 
of  space  is  also  due  to  the  nature  of  the  mind.  (4.)  The 
associationalists  generally  deny  all  of  the  previous  views, 
and  claim  that  the  space  idea  is  simply  a  consequence 
of  the  laws  of  association  working  over  sequent  sensa- 
tions. Time  relations  alone  are  primal ;  space  relations 
are  derivative. 

This  question  cannot  be  settled  by  inspection.  The  idea 
of  space,  like  that  of  time,  is  produced  long  before  reflec- 
tion begins.  Nor  is  it  possible  for  us  by  any  combination 
of  activities  to  watch  the  actual  unfolding  of  the  idea.  In 
the  case  of  number,  we  can  inspect  the  process.  The  men- 
tal function  by  which  number  is  generated  can  be  per- 
formed at  any  time ;  but  the  birth  of  the  space  idea  is 
far  more  obscure.  Our  study  must  necessarily  be  indirect, 
and  must  consist  mainly  in  examining  the  solutions  of 
the  problems  proposed.  We  begin  with  the  associational 
theory. 

This  view  does  not  claim  to  recognize  space  relations  in 
the  sensations,  or  in  their  relations  as  states  of  conscious- 
ness, but  seeks  to  deduce  them  from  simple  experiences  of 
sequence.  Herbart  in  Germany  and  the  sensationalists  in 
England  have  both  claimed  that  a  being  capable  of  having 
sensations  and  representations  in  time  must  develop  the 
idea  of  space.  It  is  not  always  plain  whether  the  deduc- 
tions are  meant  to  explain  a  knowledge  of  space  as  a 
reality,  or  only  the.  development  of  the  idea  from  non- 
spatial  elements  without  any  reference  to  its  objective 
reality  or  ideality.  In  fact  the  sensationalists  differ  on 
this  point.  Some  are  pronounced  idealists,  and  deny  the 
reality  of  space  altogether ;  others  allow  its  reality,  either 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  135 

in  a  knowable  or  unknowable  form.  The  average  sensa- 
tionalist rarely  raises  the  ontological  question,  but  confines 
himself  to  showing,  as  he  conceives,  the  true  origin  of  the 
idea  of  space.  But,  with  all  these  ontological  differences, 
their  psychological  theory  is  essentially  the  same.  As 
good  an  argument  as  any  for  their  view  is  the  following, 
by  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill. 

"  Suppose,"  he  says,  "  two  small  bodies,  A  and  B,  suffi- 
ciently near  together  to  admit  of  their  being  touched  simul- 
taneously, one  with  the  right  hand,  the  other  with  the  left. 
Here  are  two  tactual  sensations  which  are  simultaneous, 
just  as  a  sensation  of  color  and  one  of  odor  might  be;  and 
this  makes  us  cognize  the  two  objects  of  touch  as  both  ex- 
isting at  once.  The  question  then  is,  What  have  we  in  our 
minds  when  we  represent  to  ourselves  the  relation  between 
these  two  objects,  already  known  to  be  simultaneous,  in 
the  form  of  extension  or  intervening  space,  —  a  relation 
which  we  do  not  suppose  to  exist  between  the  color  and 
the  odor?"  Mill  next  points  out  that  the  peculiarity  is  that 
in  passing  from  A  to  B  a  series  of  muscular  sensations 
must  intervene,  and  continues :  "  When  we  say  that  there 
is  a  space  between  A  and  B,  we  mean  that  some  amount 
of  these  muscular  sensations  must  intervene  ;  and  when  we 
say  that  the  space  is  greater  or  less,  we  mean  that  the 
series  of  sensations  (amount  of  muscular  effort  being  given) 
is  longer  or  shorter." 

"  The  theory  may  be  recapitulated  as  follows :  The  sensa- 
tion of  muscular  motion  unimpeded  constitutes  our  notion 
of  empty  space,  and  the  sensation  of  muscular  motion  im- 
peded constitutes  that  of  filled  space.  Space  is  Room,  — 
room  for  movement ;  which  its  German  name,  Raum,  dis- 
tinctly confirms.  We  have  a  sensation  which  accompanies 
the  free  movement  of  our  organs,  say,  for  instance,  of  our 
arm.  This  sensation  is  variously  modified  by  the  direction 
and  by  the  amount  of  the  movement.  We  have  different 


136  PSYCHOLOGY. 

states  of  muscular  sensation  corresponding  to  the  move- 
ments of  the  arm  upward,  downward,  to  right,  to  left,  or  in 
any  radius  whatever  of  a  sphere  of  which  the  joint  that 
the  arm  revolves  around  forms  the  centre.  We  have  also 
different  states  of  muscular  sensation,  according  as  the  arm 
is  moved  more,  whether  this  consists  in  its  being  moved 
with  greater  velocity,  or  with  the  same  velocity  during  a 
longer  time  ;  and  the  equivalence  of  these  two  is  speedily 
learned  by  experience.  These  different  kinds  and  qualities 
of  muscular  sensation  experienced  in  getting  from  one 
point  to  another  (that  is,  obtaining  in  succession  two  sensa- 
tions of  touch  and  resistance,  the  objects  of  which  are  re- 
garded as  simultaneous)  are  all  we  mean  by  saying  that 
the  points  are  separated  by  spaces,  that  they  are  at  differ- 
ent distances,  and  in  different  directions.  ...  It  appears 
to  me  that  this  doctrine  is  sound,  and  that  the  muscular 
sensations  in  question  are  the  sources  of  all  the  notion  of 
extension  which  we  should  ever  obtain  from  the  tactual 
and  muscular  senses  without  the  assistance  of  the  eye."  l 

This  argument  has  been  given  at  much  greater  length  by 
other  writers,  especially  by  Bain  and  Spencer,  yet  with- 
out adding  anything  to  its  real  strength.  In  particular, 
attention  has  been  called  to  the  possibility  of  association 
between  the  various  series  of  sensation,  visual,  tactual,  and 
muscular,  so  as  to  produce  a  coexistence  of  different  orders 
of  sensation  as  well  as  a  coexistence  of  sensations  of  the 
same  class.  But  these  suggestions  only  make  it  easier  to 
confuse  ourselves ;  they  in  no  way  advance  the  argument. 
We  begin  with  a  criticism  of  Mill. 

There  is  a  fundamental  unclearness  running  through  this 
exposition  which  makes  it  uncertain  whether  these  sensa- 
tions are  the  idea  of  space,  or  produce  it.  Both  possibilities 
run  along  in  indefinite  oscillation,  so  that  either  seems  to 

1  Examination  of  Sir  William  Hamilton's  Philosophy,  Vol.  I.  pp.  280- 
282. 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  137 

be  on  the  point  of  becoming  the  other.     We  must  discuss 
them  separately. 

No  sensations,  muscular  or  otherwise,  are   capable   of 
originating  the  space  idea.     The  apparent  success  of  Mill's 
attempt  is  due  entirely  to  the  space  implications  of  the 
terms   used.      Thus  we  have   "  direction,"   "  movement," 
"velocity,"  "upward,"  "downward,"  "right,"  and  "left." 
A  and  B,  also,  are  spoken  of  as  coexistent  bodies,  and 
sufficiently  near  together  to  be  touched  by  each  of  our 
hands  respectively  at  the  same  time ;  and  we  are  supposed 
to  pass  back  and  forth  from  one  to  the  other.     Of  course,  if 
all  of  these  terms  are  understood  in  their  spatial  signifi- 
cance, it  would  be  very  easy  to  deduce  the  idea  from  the 
experience  described,  for  we  should  have  the  idea  already 
in  a  state  of  high  development.     If  now  we  do  not  propose 
to  beg  the  question,  we  must  carefully  eliminate  all  these 
terms.     We  know  nothing  of  movement,  or  velocity,  or 
direction.     We  must  not  assume  that  A  and  B  coexist  in 
space  or  in  mutual  externality ;  for  this  would  beg  the 
question.     Coexistent  and  sequent  sensations,  like  or  un- 
like, are  all  that  is  given.     If  there  be  sensations  attending 
movement  and  change  of  direction  and  velocity,  they  are 
not  yet  interpreted  by  the  notions  of  movement,  direction, 
and  velocity ;  all  this  is  to  be  deduced.     Hence,  when  we 
speak  of  passing  from  A,  all  we  can  mean  is  that  the  sen- 
sation A  ceases  to  exist,  and  our  return  to  A  can  only 
mean  the  recurrence  of  a  similar  sensation.     To  assume 
that  it  is  a  movement  to  and  from  a  fixed  object,  A,  which 
coexists  with  another  fixed  object,  B,  and  which  is  external 
to  it,  would  beg  the  question.     We  should  be  seeking  to 
deduce  the  idea  of  space  from  muscular  sensations,  which, 
however,  arise  from  certain  movements  known  as  move- 
ments between  two  bodies  known  to   coexist  in  mutual 
externality.     It  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  such  a  deduc- 
tion were  not  victoriously  successful.     But  when  we  are 


138  PSYCHOLOGY. 

careful  to  deny  ourselves  the  luxury  of  begging  the  ques- 
tion, it  turns  out  that  we  never  get  beyond  coexistent  and 
sequent  sensations  in  time. 

Nor  are  we  in  any  way  helped  by  the  suggestion  that 
association  may  unite  various  temporal  series  together,  so 
that  the  tactual,  the  visual,  and  the  muscular  series  may 
even  seem  to  coexist  in  consciousness,  and  to  have  lost  their 
sequent  character  altogether.  Such  coexistence  is  still  a 
temporal  coexistence.  Of  course,  after  long  dwelling  upon 
this  coexistence,  we  might  suddenly  remember  that  space 
itself  is  an  order  of  coexistence,  and  fancy  the  problem 
solved.  But  verbal  ambiguity  solves  nothing. 

Another  suggestion  is,  that  some  temporal  series  admit 
of  inversion ;  and  thus  we  reach  a  differentiation  of  the 
spatial  from  the  temporal.  Thus,  by  turning  our  eyes  from 
right  to  left,  we  get  a  given  series  of  sensations;  by  turning 
them  from  left  to  right,  we  get  the  same  series  reversed. 
The  same  is  true  for  touch.  We  can  touch  a  series  of 
objects  in  a  given  order,  and  then  reverse  it.  But  this 
reversibility  is  what  distinguishes  the  spatial  series  from 
the  temporal.  Unfortunately,  this  inversion  is  impossible 
without  the  space  idea ;  or  rather,  such  inversion  as  is  pos- 
sible in  a  time  series  is  of  no  use  in  reaching  a  space  series. 
In  such  a  case  we  have  no  turning  back  of  the  temporal 
series  upon  itself,  but  simply  a  repetition  in  the  series  of 
sensations  similar  to  those  which  occurred  before,  and  in 
an  inverted  order,  as  when  we  sing  the  scale  up  and  down ; 
but  the  temporal  series  goes  ever  onward  and  never  back- 
ward. Singing  the  scale  up  and  down  forever  has  nothing 
in  it  to  turn  a  temporal  into  a  spatial  order.  The  cloud  of 
words  may  be  never  so  great  or  so  dense,  yet,  after  all, 
when  the  question  is  not  begged,  we  do  not  advance  one 
step  beyond  temporally  coexistent  and  sequent  sensations. 
There  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  admit  that  the  space  order 
cannot  be  deduced  from  the  time  order,  or  else  to  identify 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOK.  139 

the  space  order  with  certain  forms  of  our  temporal  and 
sensational  experience. 

This  is  the  other  view  mentioned  as  contained  in  Mill's 
argument.  "  When  we  say  that  there  is  a  space  between 
A  and  B,  we  mean  that  some  amount  of  these  muscular 
sensations  must  intervene."  This  would  imply,  not  that 
muscular  sensations  produce  the  idea  of  space,  but  that, 
when  associated,  certain  tactual  sensations  are  the  idea  of 
space.  This  is  the  utterance  of  despair.  The  idea  of  space 
refuses  to  be  identified  in  any  way  with  any  kind  or  amount 
of  sensation.  Sensations  may  serve  as  a  measure  of  space, 
and  they  may  furnish  the  conditions  under  which  the  idea 
is  educed ;  but  no  identification  is  possible.  To  see  this, 
one  need  only  attempt  to  enunciate  a  geometrical  proposi- 
tion in  terms  of  sensation.  Thus,  that  the  square  on  the 
hypothenuse  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  squares  on  the  other 
two  sides,  would  be  fairly  hard  to  translate  into  terms  of 
the  relations  of  different  groups  of  sensations.  A  geometri- 
cal representation  of  the  square  root  of  two  is  not  hard  to 
understand  in  space  terms;  but  it  would  require  the  greatest 
penetration  to  identify  it  with  sundry  temporal  sensations, 
whether  coexistent  or  successive. 

There  is  plainly  no  hope  of  deriving  the  idea  of  space 
from  sensations  which  merely  coexist,  or  succeed  one  an- 
other, in  time,  and  it  is  plainly  absurd  to  identify  space 
with  sensation ;  but  a  third  possibility  remains.  We  may 
suppose  that  the  ideas,  instead  of  mechanically  cohering, 
chemically  modify  one  another,  and  thus  produce  a  mental 
result  quite  unlike  its  antecedents  or  components.  There 
is  a  chemistry  of  ideas  which  produces,  not  merely  external 
juxtaposition,  but  qualitative  transformation.  The  follow- 
ing difficulties  exist  in  this  view :  — 

1.  The  chemistry  of  ideas  is  a  happy  phrase,  which  ex- 
presses the  theory  so  effectively  that  there  has  been  a  sur- 
prising failure  to  show  that  it  is  anything  more  than  a 


140  PSYCHOLOGY. 

phrase.  In  truth,  however,  there  is  no  corresponding  fact. 
The  chemistry  required  is  one  which  would  modify,  not  the 
psychological  completeness  or  intensity  of  the  mental  func- 
tion, but  the  logical  content  of  the  idea ;  one,  for  instance, 
which  could  turn  a  sensation  of  color  into  a  sensation  of 
odor,  or  the  thought  of  a  triangle  into  the  idea  of  justice. 
The  only  illustration  ever  discovered  of  this  extraordinary 
process  was  mentioned  by  James  Mill,  and  it  has  been  hard 
worked  ever  since.  This  is  the  case  of  white  light,  which 
is  supposed  to  result  from  the  fusion  of  the  other  color 
sensations.  Unfortunately,  this  fusion  does  not  take  place 
in  consciousness,  but  in  the  nerves.  The  several  nerve 
processes  unite  into  a  resultant  process  which  has  white 
light  for  its  sensational  attendant,  just  as  other  processes 
have  other  colors  for  their  sensational  attendant.  And 
even  if  this  were  not  the  case,  we  should  be  no  better  off ; 
for  this  fusion  does  not  give  us  a  new  class  of  sensations, 
but  only  another  sensation  in  a  class  already  experienced. 
We  conclude,  then,  that  there  is  no  such  chemistry  as  the 
theory  demands  ;  and  if  there  were,  it  would  bring  our 
thinking  to  an  end.  Thought  rests,  as  we  have  seen,  upon 
the  fact  that  the  logical  contents  of  ideas  shall  remain 
unchanged  in  consciousness. 

2.  Further,  allowing  such  a  chemistry,  how  shall  we  in- 
terpret it  ?  Even  chemistry  knows  nothing  of  the  change 
of  one  simple  element  into  another,  but  only  of  the  union 
of  simple  elements  into  molecules.  The  elements  do  not 
produce  a  molecule  as  something  distinct  from  themselves, 
but  a  certain  grouping  of  elements  is  a  molecule.  Follow- 
ing this  analogy,  then,  we  should  have  to  say  that  simple 
sensations  may  be  combined  into  mental  molecules  which 
represent  new  ideas.  At  the  same  time,  the  simple  sensa- 
tions exist  in,  and  constitute,  the  mental  molecule.  They 
do  not  produce  it  as  something  distinct  from  themselves, 
but  a  certain  combination  of  temporal  sensations  is  the 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  141 

new  idea.  Thus  the  attempt  to  follow  out  the  chemical 
analogy  brings  us  out  where  we  went  in.  By  hypothesis, 
the  only  elements  in  combination  are  temporal  sensations  ; 
and  the  analogy  appealed  to  compels  us  to  say  that  a  cer- 
tain grouping  of  these  sensations  is  the  idea  of  space.  It 
might  also  be  difficult  to  work  the  theory  without  assuming 
special  affinities  in  the  sensations  for  the  peculiar  form  of 
synthesis  supposed  to  result.  A  universal  synthesis  like 
that  of  space  cannot,  of  course,  be  referred  to  accident ; 
and  if  the  sensations  always  take  on  this  form  there  seems 
no  way  of  explaining  it  except  by  assuming  some  occult 
affinity  in  the  sensations  themselves  for  this  peculiar  form. 
This  would  differ  from  the  Kantian  view  only  in  the  loca- 
tion of  this  determining  principle.  Kant  would  put  it  in 
the  mental  nature  itself,  where  it  would  be  of  some  service, 
while  this  view  would  put  it  in  the  sensations,  where  it 
would  be  of  no  use  ;  for  the  utmost  such  a  principle  could 
do  would  be  to  bring  the  sensations  into  relations  ;  it  could 
never  account  for  our  knowledge  of  them  in  those  relations ; 
and  this  is  the  knot  of  the  problem. 

We  shall  never  get  on  unless  we  allow  the  sensations  to 
produce  new  ideas.  We  may  conceive  this  production  in 
two  ways.  When  the  sensations  a,  5,  c,  cZ,  etc.  have  come 
to  coexist  in  consciousness,  we  may  suppose  (1.)  that  a, 
6,  <?,  etc.  disappear,  and  are  replaced  by  S;  or  (2.)  that  S 
arises  in  consciousness  when  a,  J,  <?,  etc.  are  given,  yet 
without  displacing  them.  But  in  neither  of  these  cases  do 
a,  6,  c,  etc.  appear  as  the  sufficient  ground  of  S,  but  rather 
as  the  conditions  under  which  the  mind  produces  the  new 
idea  S.  For  a,  6,  c,  etc.  are  not  things,  but  mental  states ; 
and  the  fact  that  they  exist  in  the  mind  can  never  be  a 
reason  for  the  occurrence  of  anything  new,  unless  we  as- 
sume a  complex  mental  nature,  which  causes  the  mind  to 
react  upon  them  with  the  new  and  peculiar  function  S. 
The  sensations  themselves  are  subject  to  the  law  of  iden- 


142  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tity ;  and  the  ground  and  direction  of  their  movement  must 
be  sought  in  the  soul  itself.  But  this  leads  us  out  into  the 
apriori  view,  that  the  space  idea  results  from  some  special 
principle  within  the  soul  itself,  and  not  from  any  interaction 
of  sensation. 

The  association  of  temporal  elements  will  not  give  us 
space.  The  alleged  deductions  of  the  idea  are  sorry 
enough.  They  owe  their  force  either  to  the  space  terms 
employed,  such  as  movement,  velocity,  and  direction,  or 
to  ambiguous  terms,  which  may  be  referred  to  either  space 
or  time.  Examples  are  "  coexistence,"  "  series,"  "  posi- 
tion," "  coexistent  positions,"  and  "  serial  lengths."  These 
are  above  all  price  in  the  deduction.  By  hypothesis,  their 
temporal  significance  is  the  only  one  employed ;  but  the 
spatial  meaning  gets  itself  recognized  betimes.  It  is  on 
this  broad  neutral  field  of  verbal  ambiguity  that  the  trans- 
formation of  time  into  space  occurs. 

The  construction  of  the  space  idea  from  temporal  ele- 
ments is  a  failure.  We  have  next  to  consider  the  claim 
that  sensations  themselves  are  extended  and  mutually  ex- 
ternal. This  curious  view  arises  from  confounding  sen- 
sations as  mental  acts  or  functions  with  sensations  as 
objects.  After  our  sensations  are  referred  to  the  sur- 
face of  the  body,  or  to  different  parts  of  the  body,  or  to  a 
world  of  external  things,  it  does  not  seem  absurd  to  speak 
of  them  as  extended  and  spatially  related.  But  until  this 
objective  reference  is  made,  the  sensations  show  no  signs 
of  spatial  properties.  As  mental  states,  they  are  neither 
before  nor  behind,  neither  above  nor  below  one  another. 
No  more  are  they  round,  or  square,  or  crooked,  or  cubical. 
These  spatial  relations  and  qualities  have  significance  only 
as  applied  to  objects,  and  not  to  sensations.  The  identifi- 
cation of  sensations  as  acts  with  sensations  as  objects,  is 
like  the  identification  of  our  ideas  as  mental  acts  with  the 
objects  meant.  We  must  say,  however,  that  the  thought 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  143 

of  sugar  is  not  sweet,  that  of  vinegar  is  not  sour,  that  of 
the  triangle  is  not  three-cornered,  and  that  of  size  or  form 
has  neither  size  nor  form.  The  only  intelligible  meaning 
of  this  view  is,  that  our  sensations  make  us  immediately 
cognizant  of  extension,  not  in  themselves,  however,  but  in 
the  organism,  or  in  extra-organic  objects.  In  this  form 
the  view  does  not  differ  psychologically  from  the  common 
view,  and  may  be  criticised  along  with  it. 

We  return  to  the  view  of  common  sense,  according  to 
which  things  are  extended  and  in  space,  and  are  immedi- 
ately known  as  such.  If  this  were  admitted,  it  would  nctf 
solve  the  question  of  the  psychological  origin  of  the  notion 
of  space,  or  of  how  our  knowledge  of  this  real  space  arises. 
The  mere  existence  of  a  thing  does  not  explain  our  percep- 
tion of  it ;  and  this  implies  the  further  statement,  that  the 
existence  of  a  thing  as  such  or  such  does  not  explain  our 
perception  of  it  as  stfch  or  such.  To  be  perceived,  a  thing 
must  act  upon  us ;  and  to  be  perceived  as  this  or  that,  it 
must  act  upon  us  in  a  manner  corresponding  thereto.  But 
space  itself  and  space  relations  do  not  act  upon  us ;  only 
things  can  do  that.  Hence,  our  knowledge  of  space  and 
space  relations  must  depend  on  the  activities  of  things. 
But  whoever  will  consider  the  physiological  processes 
which  mediate  perception  will  see  that  they  have  no  like- 
ness to  the  things  and  space  relations  which  we  are  sup- 
posed to  perceive  through  them.  They  are  as  little  alike 
as  the  written  word  is  like  the  idea,  or  as  the  electric 
changes  in  the  wire  are  like  the  message  sent.  Hence,  if 
there  is  to  be  a  recovery  of  the  original  forms  of  external 
existence,  it  can  only  be  as  the  nervous  processes  affect  the 
mind,  and  cause  it  to  read  them  back  into  their  objective 
meaning.  But  this  mental  reconstruction  must  be  accord- 
ing to  laws  inherent  in  the  mind ;  for  the  raw  material  is 
totally  unlike  the  pattern  according  to  which  it  is  to  be 
woven,  and  the  mind  has  nothing  but  this  raw  material 


144  PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  itself.  The  immediate  antecedents  of  perception  are 
totally  unlike  the  things  and  relations  perceived.  Hence, 
if  the  mind  had  no  inherent  tendency  to  bring  certain  of  its 
objects  into  space  forms  and  space  relations,  the  knowledge 
could  never  arise,  no  matter  how  real  space  might  be. 

To  escape  this  admission,  various  devices  are  resorted  to. 
Thus,  the  claim  is  made  that  the  extension  of  the  body 
implies  necessarily  the  perception  of  extension.  When, 
then,  the  branching  of  the  nerves  over  a  certain  surface  of 
the  body  is  shown,  as  in  the  eye,  and  skin,  and  nerves  of 
touch,  this  is  supposed  to  explain  at  once  the  knowledge 
of  extension.  This  view  has  the  following  difficulties :  — 

1.  Our  perception  of  extension  is  never  of  the  extension 
of  the  nerves,  either  of  their  inner  or  outer  endings.     If 
our  perception  of  color  were  really  a  perception  of  the 
packed  rods  and  cones  of  the  retina,  the  sensation  would 
be  coarse-grained  and  discontinuous  to  correspond  ;   and 
the  blind  spot  would  appear  in  the  extended  color. 

2.  The  external  arrangement  of  the  retinal  picture  is 
entirely  lost,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  in  the  optic  nerve ;  and 
there  is  not  the  slightest  ground  for  supposing  that  it  is 
ever  restored.     The  picture  formed  on  the  retina  is  not 
transmitted  to  the  brain.     Of  the  space  relations  of  the 
central  elements  whose  action  mediates  vision,  we  know 
nothing.     The  same  is  true  for  the  other  senses.     The 
peripheral  arrangements  of  parts  finds  no  reproduction  in 
the  central  organs  ;  and  if  it  did,  we  should  have  the  same 
coarse-grainedness  of  extension  which  we  should  have  from 
an  immediate  consciousness  of  the  retina.     There  is  no 
absolutely  continuous  extension  in  reality,  whether  of  the 
nerves  or  of  extra-organic  objects. 

3.  But,  overlooking  these  difficulties,  we  are  no  nearer 
the  idea  of  extension  than  before.     We  have  simply  the 
perennial  confusion  of  existence  in  relations  with  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  relations.     On  the  theory,  we  should  have  sim« 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  145 

ply  a  lot  of  nerve-endings  side  by  side.  But  since  we  know 
nothing  of  these  nerve-endings  except  very  indirectly,  and, 
in  fact,  know  almost  nothing  of  them  in  any  way,  it  would 
be  absurd  to  try  to  derive  our  knowledge  of  extension  from 
the  knowledge  of  their  extension.  And  yet  the  fact  of  their 
extension  in  space  can  be  no  reason  why  a  knowledge  of 
their  extension  should  arise  in  the  spaceless  field  of  con- 
sciousness. Their  effect  upon  the  mind  is  not  extended, 
but  varies  only  in  quality,  intensity,  and  duration.  These, 
however,  are  not  extension ;  they  can  only  furnish  the  in- 
citement for  its  mental  development. 

Relief  has  been  sought  from  this  difficulty  in  the  notion 
that  the  mind  itself  is  extended.  Some  have  supposed  that 
the  mind,  as  a  kind  of  ethereal  essence,  fills  out  the  body, 
and  comes  in  direct  contact  with  the  surface  of  things. 
Others  think  that  the  extended  nervous  surface,  at  least,  is 
connected  with  an  extension  of  the  soul.  In  both  cases, 
the  physical  extension  acts  upon  a  mental  extension,  and 
thus  the  mystery  is  solved.  Some  have  even  gone  so  far 
as  to  affirm,  that  a  perception  of  the  extended  by  the  un- 
extended  is  a  contradiction.  This  final  fancy  rests  on  the 
whim  that  the  perceptive  act  has  the  properties  of  the 
thing  perceived.  The  thought  of  extension  is  extended, 
and  hence  the  soul  must  be  extended  to  hold  it.  Of  course, 
the  thought  of  infinite  space  must  be  very  bulky,  and  the 
mind  must  be  correspondingly  large  to  contain  it.  Apart 
from  this  whimsey,  the  doctrine  only  helps  the  imagination. 
When  we  suppose  a  series  of  impressions  on  an  extended 
soul,  it  seems  as  if  the  mystery  were  explained.  But,  first, 
we  know  nothing  of  such  impressions ;  and,  second,  if  such 
impressions  existed,  the  knowledge  of  them  in  their  space 
relations  would  not  be  explained.  Space  relations  can  ex- 
ist for  knowledge  only  as  the  mind  brings  its  objects  into 
those  relations.  Just  as  a  special  synthesis  is  needed  to 
bring  out  the  idea  of  time,  so  also  another  special  synthesis 

10 


146 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


is  needed  to  bring  out  the  idea  of  space,  and  to  put  objects 
into  space  relations. 

The  view  we  are  criticising  rests  also  on  the  assumption 
that  extension  is  an  idea  which  can  be  passively  imported 
into  the  mind  without  any  constructive  activity  on  the  part 
of  the  mind.  But  in  truth  all  perception  of  extension  rests 
on  a  synthesis  of  parts.  The  parts  may  exist  in  objective 
synthesis,  they  can  be  known  as  spatial  only  through  a  sub- 
jective synthesis  corresponding  thereto.  When  the  object 
is  large,  we  can  detect  this  activity  very  clearly.  Then 
our  vision  runs  around  the  object,  drawing  its  outline,  and 
gathering  up  the  successive  steps  in  a  single  form  and 
image.  Nor  can  there  be  here  any  thought  of  a  simple 
gaze  at  a  physiological  image,  for  no  such  thing  exists  for 
consciousness  at  all.  The  extension  we  see  is  the  exten- 
sion we  construct. 

But  even  this  need  not  be  insisted  upon.  We  may  admit 
that  the  mind  has  a  direct  experience  of  extension  in  sense 
experience  and  even  an  experience  of  extended  objects,  and 
we  should  still  not  be  in  possession  of  the  idea  of  space ; 
and  if  this  were  all,  we  should  never  reach  it.  For  this 
idea  embraces  not  merely  the  extension  of  separate  objects, 
but  also,  and  more  especially,  the  relating  of  these  objects 
in  a  common  space.  It  is  this  vast  network  of  relations 
among  objects  and  positions  in  space  which  constitutes 
the  essential  content  of  the  idea  of  space.  Objects  may 
suggest  their  existence,  but  they  are  not  necessary  to  their 
existence  ;  and  after  the  mind  has  come  into  possession  of 
the  space  idea,  it  can  develop  out  of  itself  myriads  of  ideal 
relations  which  have  never  been  realized.  Now  the  simple 
experience  of  extended  objects  contains  no  account  of  this. 
There  would  be  nothing  in  such  experience  to  bring  those 
objects  into  further  relations.  They  would  be  alike  as  to 
extension,  but  they  would  not  exist  in  a  common  space. 
The  bare  fact  of  being  all  extended  would  be  compatible 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  147 

with  existence  in  separate  and  incommensurable  spaces ; 
just  as  the  products  of  imagination  and  dreams  exist  in 
unrelated  spaces.  Nor  can  they  come  into  a  common  space 
until  the  mind  brings  them  into  it.  By  its  unifying  and 
co-ordinating  activity  it  must  assign  each  object  its  place 
in  a  system  of  space  relations ;  and  until  this  is  done, 
thought  has  not  reached  the  unity  and  community  of 
space.  We  know  that  all  things  are  in  one  space,  only 
because  we  relate  all  our  objects  in  a  common  scheme  of 
intuition,  and  according  to  a  common  rule.  This  locating 
and  co-ordinating  of  its  objects  in  a  common  intuition  ac- 
cording to  a  common  principle  is  the  essential  space  activity 
of  the  soul ;  and  it  is  the  expression  of  an  inherent  mental 
principle,  which  the  mind  brings  to  its  objects  rather  than 
finds  in  them.  And,  as  we  have  just  said,  after  the  mind 
is  in  possession  of  the  space  intuition,  it  may  proceed  in 
entire  abstraction  from  all  objects,  on  the  basis  simply  of 
its  own  conceptions  and  intuitions.  In  this  way  the  sci- 
ence of  geometry  in  all  its  forms  is  built  up.  The  propo- 
sitions of  this  science  are  not  learned  from  experience  nor 
can  they  be  tested  by  experience.  They  are  evolved  from 
pure  spatial  intuitions  and  are  tested  by  the  same. 

This  conception  of  the  space  activity  as  a  peculiar  form 
of  relating  a  plurality  of  objects  throws  further  doubt  on 
the  assumed  possibility  of  a  simple,  or  passive,  conscious- 
ness of  extension.  For  if  the  notion  of  extension  involves 
a  relation  of  different  parts  as  inner  and  outer,  right  and 
left,  top  and  bottom,  or  a  distinction  of  points  as  adjacent 
and  separate,  then  consciousness  of  extension  is  impossible 
without  a  special  relating  activity  of  the  mind. 

The  difficulty  with  the  associational  theory  is,  that  it 
either  begs  the  question,  or  else,  instead  of  deducing  the 
idea  of  space,  calls  certain  associations  of  temporal  sensa- 
tions space.  The  difficulty  with  the  common-sense  theory 
is,  that  it  assumes  that  the  existence  of  extension  in  the 


148  PSYCHOLOGY. 

organism  and  in  external  objects  accounts  for  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  same,  and  overlooks  the  fact  that  objects  can 
exist  in  space  relations  for  the  mind  only  as  the  mind 
brings  them  into  such  relations.  That  which  makes  the 
common  view  so  clear  is  the  complete  oversight  of  all  the 
conditions  of  perception,  especially  of  the  fact  that  percep- 
tion is  mediated  by  a  complex  and  highly  mysterious  ner- 
vous activity,  in  which  no  trace  of  likeness  can  be  found, 
on  the  one  hand,  to  the  external  things  and  their  relations, 
and,  on  the  other,  to  the  resulting  knowledge.  In  the  fail- 
ure of  these  views  we  turn  to  the  theory  which  holds  that 
the  origin  of  the  idea  of  space  is  not  to  be  sought  in  sensa- 
tion or  in  sense  experience,  but  rather  in  the  nature  of  the 
mind  itself. 

This  view  regards  our  sensations,  considered  as  mental 
states,  as  having  no  spatial  properties  whatever.  However 
produced,  they  differ  in  themselves  only  in  quality,  inten- 
sity, duration,  and  time  of  occurrence.  As  in  painting, 
distance,  size,  and  the  third  dimension  are  replaced  by 
light,  shade,  and  perspective ;  or  as  in  actual  perception, 
the  same  elements  of  distance,  etc.  are  replaced  by  vary- 
ing shades  of  color  and  clearness  of  outline ;  so  in  this 
theory,  all  spatial  relations  vanish  from  the  sensations,  and 
are  replaced  by  varying  shades  of  quality  and  intensity  of 
sensation.  In  the  case  of  the  picture  the  shaded  pigments 
lead  the  mind  to  construct  the  object ;  and  this  it  does  so 
spontaneously  that  we  seem  to  see  the  very  object  itself. 
It  requires  more  effort  to  see  what  the  eyes  really  give, 
namely,  a  mass  of  colors  on  a  flat  surface,  than  to  see  the 
spatial  significance  of  the  whole.  In  the  case  of  percep- 
tion, again,  the  spatial  interpretation  is  so  rapid  and  spon- 
taneous that  we  seem  to  see  size  and  distance  immediately ; 
and  it  even  requires  a  considerable  power  of  analysis  to  see 
that  this  is  not  the  case.  What  is  partially  true  in  these 
cases  is  regarded  as  strictly  true  in  the  theory  in  question. 


THE   THOUGHT-FACTOR.  149 

Space  relations  of  every  kind  are  replaced  by  non-spatial 
representatives.  These,  however,  excite  the  mind  to  give 
to  its  objects  space  forms  and  relations,  just  as  the  light 
and  shade  on  the  canvas  excite  it  to  construct  for  itself 
the  corresponding  objects  under  the  forms  and  relations 
of  space.  But  just  as  the  light  and  shade  in  the  picture 
can  never  take  on  their  objective  significance  again  unless 
an  interpreting  mind  appear,  so  also  these  non-spatial  quali- 
ties of  sensation  will  never  again  acquire  a  spatial  signifi- 
cance unless  the  mind  whose  states  they  are  gives  it  to 
them  by  projecting  them  as  objects  under  the  forms  of 
space. 

What  is  the  essential  element  in  this  process  ?  In  our 
mature  thought,  we  possess  the  idea  of  one  all-embracing 
space ;  and  all  space  terms  seem  to  imply  this  as  their 
condition,  or  to  be  specifications  under  it.  Nevertheless, 
we  must  regard  this  idea  as  second,  and  not  first.  The 
essential  factor  is  the  synthesis  of  objects  in  space  relations 
without  any  original  reference  to  the  unity  or  infinity  of 
space.  Space  may  be  one  and  infinite,  but  it  is  not  origi- 
nally given  as  such.  We  begin  by  representing  space  only 
in  such  extension  as  our  actual  sense  experience  calls  for, 
and  it  is  only  at  a  later  peried  that  the  conception  of  the 
unity  and  infinity  of  space  arises.  The  form  and  law  of 
the  synthesis  are  first ;  the  unity  is  even  conditional  upon 
the  nature  of  the  object.  The  spaces  in  which  dream 
objects  appear  have  nothing  in  common  with  real  space  or 
with  one  another.  So  also  the  space  in  which  imagination 
constructs  its  objects  is  not  a  part  of  the  space  in  which 
we  suppose  the  real  world  to  exist.  I  may  represent  suc- 
cessively a  series  of  geometrical  figures  in  thought,  but  they 
exist  in  no  common  space,  and  least  of  all  in  the  space  of 
external  perception.  Here  we  see  the  form  and  law  of  spa- 
tial synthesis  active,  yet  without  any  suggestion  of  either 
unity  or  infinity.  Kant's  claim  that  all  spaces  must  be 


150  PSYCHOLOGY. 

conceived  as  parts  of  one  and  the  same  space,  is  true  only 
for  the  space  in  which  I  posit  real  objects ;  and  then  the 
unity  is  due  to  the  unity  of  the  mental  activity.  The  mind 
relates  all  its  objects  in  space  forms  and  relations ;  and 
hence,  whenever  a  new  object  or  point  or  place  is  posited, 
it  is  related  to  the  others.  In  this  way  the  sum  of  objects 
is  related  in  a  single  system,  in  which  it  is  possible  to  pass 
from  any  one  to  any  other,  and  in  which  every  object  has 
its  special  position  and  relation  with  reference  to  all  the 
rest.  It  is  this  possibility  of  bringing  all  its  objects  into 
a  single  system  of  relations  which  constitutes  the  psycho- 
logical unity  of  space  and  the  ground  for  affirming  its  real 
unity  in  objective  existence.  Further,  this  positing  of  points 
is  possible  in  all  directions ;  and  thus  arises  the  conception 
of  space  equally  extended  on  all  sides.  There  is,  too,  no 
reason  why  the  positing  of  points  should  cease  at  any  point 
whatever.  The  process  admits  of  indefinite  repetition ;  and 
thus  arises  the  notion  of  space  extended  indefinitely  on  all 
sides.  The  infinity  of  space,  like  the  infinity  of  number, 
depends  on  the  impossibility  of  exhausting  the  processes 
on  which  the  ideas  depend.  An  infinite  space  cannot  be 
represented ;  and  an  infinite  number  cannot  be  reached. 
Yet  while  any  represented  space,  or  any  actual  number, 
is  finite,  neither  exhausts  the  process  which  produced  it ; 
on  the  contrary,  the  process  is  inexhaustible.  Psychologi- 
cally, the  infinitude  of  space,  time,  and  number  is  but  the 
reflection  of  a  mental  process  which  admits  of  no  exhaus- 
tion, something  like  a  recurring  series  in  division  which 
always  has  a  remainder  and  calls  for  a  continuance  of  the 
division. 

This  view  includes  two  factors,  (1.)  a  principle  of  syn- 
thesis or  a  law  according  to  which  the  mind  relates  its 
objects  ;  (2.)  an  intuition  of  the  results  of  this  synthetic 
activity.  That  is,  space  exists  as  principle  and  appears  as 
a  product.  As  product  space  appears  as  an  all-containing 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR  151 

void,  in  which  all  things  coexist  in  space  relations.  These 
actual  relations,  however,  do  not  exhaust  the  possible  re- 
lations; and  this  void  is  simply  the  vague  synthesis  in 
thought  of  all  relations,  real  and  possible.  When  we  say 
that  things  are  in  space,  we  merely  mean  tjiat  they  exist 
in  space  relations ;  and  when  we  say  that  things  cannot 
exist  out  of  space,  that  means  that  we  cannot  perceive 
objects  without  establishing  space  relations  among  them. 
In  number,  when  we  abstract  from  real  things,  we  come 
down  to  the  pure  form  of  numerical  function ;  so  in  space, 
when  we  abstract  from  real  objects,  we  come  down  to  the 
pure  forms  of  the  spatial  function.  This  function  may 
proceed  on  the  basis  of  its  own  constructions  without  any 
reference  to  reality,  and  thus  determine  the  pure  relations 
of  space.  To  do  this  is  the  function  of  geometry. 

Although  space  is  an  apriori  contribution  of  the  mind,  it 
is  still  possible  that  the  external  experience  may  not  only 
serve  to  elicit  it,  but  also  to  determine  its  character  to  some 
extent.  All  our  sensations  are  purely  mental  reactions, 
and  yet  their  nature  is  partly  dependent  on  the  object.  It 
is,  then,  conceivable  that  our  conception  of  space  is  not 
purely  a  mental  product,  but  one  which  depends  on  the 
nature  of  experience.  Out  of  this  thought  have  arisen  the 
various  schemes  of  transcendental  geometry,  and  the  sug- 
gestion that  space  in  itself  may  have  altogether  different 
properties  from  those  which  we  attribute  to  it. 

To  this  it  may  be  answered,  that  space  in  its  geometrical 
properties  is  altogether  indifferent  to  the  nature  of  the 
objects.  The  system  of  space  relations  is  one  and  change- 
less, no  matter  what  the  objects.  Besides,  our  geometrical 
study  goes  on  in  complete  abstraction  from  all  objects, 
dealing  only  with  space  intuitions  themselves.  There  is, 
then,  nothing  known  to  suggest  the  thought  that  a  change 
in  experience  would  modify  space  principles. 

The  transcendental  geometry  is  properly  nothing  but  an 


152  PSYCHOLOGY. 

analysis  of  assumed  conditions,  and  says  nothing  about  the 
possibility  of  spatially  representing  its  conclusions.  The 
argument  is,  that,  if  space  had  n  dimensions,  certain  propo- 
sitions would  be  true ;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are 
true  until  space  has  been  shown  to  have  n  dimensions.  In 
the  same  way  we  might  construct  a  geometry  of  the  square 
circle.  Assuming  a  square  circle,  we  might  deduce  various 
propositions;  but  that  would  hardly  prove  that  square  cir- 
cles are  possible.  Both  geometries  would  be  of  equal  value, 
and  both  would  rest  upon  the  fact  that  language  enables  us 
to  construct  phrases  for  which  there  is  no  corresponding 
thought. 

Not  all  sensations  are  equally  adapted  to  excite  the  mind 
to  a  spatial  representation  of  its  objects.  The  most  effect- 
ive are  those  connected  with  touch  and  vision ;  and  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  many  of  our  sensations  originally  had 
any  spatial  reference.  It  is  not  difficult,  even  now,  to  ab- 
stract the  sound  of  a  piece  of  music  from  all  spatial  rela- 
tions, and  enjoy  it  in  its  purely  qualitative  significance. 
This  question  of  the  development  of  space  knowledge  will 
come  up  again  in  treating  of  the  process  of  perception. 

In  one  respect  our  conception  is  affected  by  experience. 
One  visual  experience  doubtless  gives  space  a  certain  look 
because  of  the  connection  established  thereby  between  its 
extension  and  the  sensations  of  color,  which  it  could  not 
have  for  the  blind.  The  eye,  also,  enables  us  to  grasp  in 
a  single  act  a  large  number  of  objects  and  their  space 
relations  which  we  might  find  it  impossible  to  represent 
with  any  such  clearness  without  its  assistance.  On  this 
account  many  have  affirmed  that  the  blind  can  have  no 
proper  idea  of  space,  and  that  time  takes  the  place  of 
space  with  them.  This  claim  is  sufficiently  disproved  by 
the  existence  of  blind  geometricians,  a  fact  which  would 
not  be  possible  if  they  had  not  pure  spatial  intuitions.  We 
cannot  say,  then,  that  our  knowledge  of  geometrical  rela- 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  153 

tions  is  dependent  on  vision,  but  we  may  well  believe  that, 
without  the  experience  of  color,  and  the  power  of  the  eye 
to  present  a  multitude  of  coexisting  objects  before  the 
mind,  the  look  of  space  would  be  very  different,  and  our 
conception  of  the  system  of  existing  relations  would  be  far 
more  incomplete. 

To  the  question  why  the  mind  views  its  objects  under 
the  form  of  space,  the  answer  has  often  been  given  that  the 
mind  views  its  objects  in  space  because  they  are  in  space. 
This  is  the  common-sense  view.  Its  inadequacy  has  been 
seen.  The  associationalist  replies,  by  seeking  to  show  that 
the  sensations  themselves  must  lead  to  the  idea  of  space. 
This  reply  also  we  have  found  insufficient.  The  final  con- 
clusion is,  that  space  is  a  mental  principle,  which  compels 
the  mind  to  give  its  objects  spatial  forms  and  relations. 
Of  course  this  merely  affirms  a  fact  without  deducing  it ; 
but  not  every  fact  can  be  deduced.  The  attempts  to  deduce 
the  idea  of  space  deserve  to  be  ranked  with  the  attempts  to 
square  the  circle  and  invent  perpetual  motion. 

Number  is  the  next  relation  which  we  mention.  This  is 
pre-eminently  the  outcome  of  a  mental  activity.  There 
is  no  other  form  of  activity  in  which  the  mind  is  so  con- 
sciously master  of  itself  and  of  its  processes  as  in  this. 
It  involves  (1.)  the  establishment  of  a  unit,  and  (2.)  a 
process  of  counting. 

Of  course  sensationalism  has  sought  to  deduce  this  idea 
as  a  simple  consequence  of  sense  experience ;  and  at  first 
glance  the  attempt  would  seem  to  be  successful.  Number 
seems  to  adhere  so  closely  to  the  objects  that  to  know 
them  seems  to  be  the  same  as  knowing  their  number. 
Yet  this,  again,  is  only  the  old  error  which  identifies  plu- 
rality- in  experience  with  experience  of  plurality.  The 
very  utmost  that  could  be  allowed  would  be  that  unity 
inheres  in  the  object;  the  conception  of  plurality  arises 
only  as  the  mind  takes  the  separate  units  together.  Until 


154  PSYCHOLOGY. 

this  is  done,  we  have  not  number,  but  the  unit  repeated;  the 
countable,  but  not  the  counted.  Each  object  may  be  one ; 
but  no  object  is  two  or  three,  etc.  The  clock  may  strike 
one  repeatedly,  but  by  no  possibility  can  it  do  more.  Our 
ears  might  give  us  the  separate  strokes,  but  they  cannot 
hear  their  number.  Hence  we  pass  from  units  to  number 
only  by  a  process  of  counting,  or  of  adding  unit  to  unit. 
Number  is  no  property  of  things  in  themselves,  but  only  of 
things  as  united  by  the  mind  in  numerical  relations. 

Nor  can  we  allow  that  unity  attaches  to  the  sense  object. 
The  mind  establishes  its  own  unit,  as  appears  from  the 
fact  that  the  same  object  may  be  one  or  many,  according 
to  the  unit  which  the  mind  adopts.  If,  then,  the  sense 
impression  may  remain  the  same,  and  the  numerical  value 
be  variously  conceived,  it  is  clear  that  there  is  something 
beyond  the  sensation  in  question.  In  fact  the  object  is 
neither  one  nor  many  until  the  mind  has  fixed  its  unit  of 
measure.  The  length  of  a  yardstick  is  no  more  one  than 
it  is  three  or  thirty-six.  It  may  be  any  of  these  according 
as  we  make  the  unit  a  yard,  or  a  foot,  or  an  inch.  Hence 
the  single  sense  impression  does  not  constitute  itself  a  unit 
any  more  than  several  such  impressions  constitute  them- 
selves a  number.  The  unity  comes,  not  from  the  sensation 
itself,  but  from  the  nature  of  thought  as  a  discriminating 
activity.  In  every  act  of  discrimination  the  discriminated 
objects  are  set  apart,  each  by  itself,  as  a  self-identical 
unit.  It  is  this  discriminating  process  which  determines 
what  the  units  shall  be ;  and  the  units  will  be  various 
according  to  the  fineness,  or  according  to  the  purpose,  of 
the  distinction.  In  a  library,  a  book  is  a  unit.  In  a  book, 
a  page  or  a  chapter  may  be  a  unit.  In  either  of  these, 
again,  words  or  sentences  or  paragraphs  may  be  units ; 
and,  finally,  the  letters  themselves  may  be  taken  as  units. 
In  many  cases,  as  in  most  scientific  measurements,  the 
units  are  purely  arbitrary.  Thus  the  unit  of  work,  the 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  155 

unit  of  temperature,  the  unit  of  distance,  not  only  do  not 
determine  themselves,  but  their  determination  is  a  matter 
of  great  difficulty.  Any  distinguishable  mental  act  or  state 
may  be  constituted  a  unit,  and  a  plurality  of  these  may 
furnish  the  conditions  for  the  development  of  the  whole 
science  of  number. 

Again,  number  involves,  not  only  discrimination,  but  as- 
similation. Number  applies  only  to  the  members  of  a  com- 
mon class.  This  class  may  consist  of  external  objects,  or 
of  internal  states  ;  but  nowhere  does  the  idea  of  number 
arise,  until  the  numerated  objects  have  been  brought  under 
some  single  point  of  view,  or  into  a  common  class. 

All  that  can  be  allowed  for  sense  experience  is  that  it 
constantly  furnishes  us  with  discriminable  objects  of  ex- 
perience, and  these  may  act  as  a  stimulus  to  the  mind  to 
perform  its  function  of  numeration,  or  to  develop  its  numer- 
ical activity.  We  may  also  allow  that  this  function  begins 
only  crudely  and  obscurely  ;  but  whenever  and  however  it 
begins,  it  is  something  forever  distinct  from  any  passive 
affection  of  the  sensibility.  Moreover,  when  this  function 
is  once  developed,  it  quickly  outruns  any  possible  experi- 
ence, sensational  or  otherwise.  When  the  beginning  is 
once  made,  thereafter  the  mind  is  purely  spontaneous.  It 
creates  its  own  data  and  processes  and  problems,  and 
tests  them  all  by  its  own  insight.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
other  test  possible.  Experience  could  never  decide  as  to 
the  correctness  of  a  logarithm,  or  differential  formula. 
This  can  be  dene  only  by  the  mind  itself  reviewing  its 
processes  and  scrutinizing  their  various  steps.  One  would 
think,  on  reading  the  arguments  for  the  empirical  origin  of 
number,  that  their  authors  had  never  heard  of  numbers 
larger  than  ten,  and  had  never  heard  at  all  of  the  various 
forms  of  numerical  science.  It  would  be  interesting  to  see 
the  physical  source  of  any  large  number,  and  to  note  the 
physical  difference  between  it  and  the  similar  representa- 


156  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tive  of  the  same  number  plus  or  minus  one.  It  would  be 
equally  interesting  to  see  the  physical  prototype  of  a  loga- 
rithm, a  differential  coefficient,  the  root  of  a  surd  quantity. 
It  is  very  doubtful  if  we  should  recognize  these  rare  objects, 
even  if  we  should  happen  upon  them.  None  of  these  no- 
tions are  abstracted  from  physical  experience.  They  are 
rather  spontaneous  products  of  the  mind,  according  to  laws 
native  to  itself.  Thus  large  numbers  are  developed  and 
dealt  with  with  perfect  certainty.  Thus  also  the  science  of 
arithmetic,  of  algebra,  of  the  calculus,  is  built  up.  Experi- 
ence is  so  far  from  being  the  source  of  these  sciences,  that  it 
cannot  even  test  them  after  they  are  developed.  For  both 
origin  and  proof  the  mind  has  no  resource  beyond  itself. 

Number  has  been  called  the  science  of  pure  time. 
This  was  due  to  the  fact  that  sequence  incessantly  fur- 
nishes us  with  examples  of  difference,  and  thus  furnishes 
the  conditions  for  the  development  of  the  numerical  ac- 
tivity. But  the  sequence  as  such  is  irrelevant  to  the 
matter.  It  is  the  discrimination  which  is  essential,  and 
this  would  be  as  effective  if  the  discriminated  objects  were 
in  space,  or  simply  coexisted  in  consciousness,  as  if  they 
were  in  time.  Number  applies  equally  to  all  discriminable 
objects,  no  matter  whether  their  differences  are  in  space, 
or  time,  or  degree,  or  consciousness.  Number  is  the  great 
measurer ;  that  is,  all  quantity,  whether  in  the  form  of 
extension,  or  duration,  or  intensity  of  action,  or  degree  of 
a  quality,  can  be  expressed  only  in  terms  of  number.  The 
numerical  function  is  purely  formal  in  a  double  sense  ; 
(1.)  it  can  be  performed  with  reference  to  any  experiential 
content  whatever ;  and  (2.)  it  can  even  be  performed  upon 
data  which  itself  produces.  It  is  only  in  this  second  sense 
that  number  is  abstract.  This  does  not  mean  that  number 
is  reached  by  abstraction ;  but  that  the  numerical  process 
can  go  on  in  abstraction  from  all  concrete  objects  upon  the 
basis  of  data  which  the  mind  spontaneously  creates  out  of 
itself. 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  157 

The  relations  thus  far  dealt  with  are  formal  and  logical, 
and  do  not  necessarily  imply  any  objects  beyond  the  sub- 
jective states  and  conceptions  of  the  mind.  With  these 
ideas  of  likeness,  of  coexistence  and  sequence,  of  spatial 
and  numerical  relations,  it  would  be  possible  for  the  mind 
to  get  a  very  accurate  knowledge  of  its  inner  experiences, 
and  of  the  order  among  its  states.  Its  sensations  and 
feelings  and  objects  might  be  classed,  and  the  finest  sense 
for  their  agreements  and  differences  might  exist.  The 
order  of  their  coexistence  and  sequence  might  also  be  most 
accurately  determined,  and  they  might  also  be  objectified 
to  thought  under  the  form  of  space,  as  in  imagination  and 
dream.  In  this  way  it  would  be  possible  for  the  mind  to 
read  its  past  and  to  previse  its  future  with  the  utmost 
accuracy.  Given  sensations  would  be  the  signs  of  others, 
and  past  and  future  alike  might  be  explored.  Understand- 
ing by  phenomenon  a  spatial  synthesis  and  projection  of 
sense  qualities,  we  may  say  that  a  complete  science  of  phe- 
nomena in  their  coexistences  and  sequences  and  in  the  laws 
of  their  occurrence,  would  be  possible.  But  there  would 
be  nothing  in  such  a  state  to  lead  the  mind  to  transcend 
itself.  Its  knowledge  would  be  of  its  own  states  and 
ideas,  their  likeness  and  differences  and  the  order  of  their 
succession.  In  order  to  pass  beyond  the  subjective  circle 
into  an  independent  world  of  reality,  we  must  have  recourse 
to  the  metaphysical  elements  of  thought.  These  consist 
especially  in  the  metaphysical  relations  of  substance  and 
attribute,  cause  and  effect.  Only  by  means  of  these  can 
we  transcend  ourselves  and  reach  a  world  of  objects.  Our 
sensations  arc  not  merely  known  as  states  of  ourselves; 
they  are  also  referred  to  external  things,  either  as  their 
effects  or  as  their  properties.  In  this  activity  the  mind 
establishes  the  relations  of  cause  and  effect,  and  of  sub- 
stance and  attribute. 

Metaphysics  finds  reasons  for  saying  that  the  ideas  of 


158 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


cause  and  substance  are  but  different  sides  of  the  same 
thing, —  that  substance  can  only  be  viewed  as  cause,  and 
that  cause  must  be  regarded  as  substance.  Nevertheless, 
though  both  ideas  enter  into  the  notion  of  reality,  in  their 
actual  use  they  each  denote  a  special  element  which  de- 
serves to  be  considered  by  itself.  Our  inquiry  concerns 
not  the  metaphysical  applications  of  these  ideas,  many  of 
which  are  mistaken,  but  rather  their  psychological  origin 
and  logical  function.  If  it  should  turn  out  that  many 
things  which  we  are  accustomed  to  regard  as  substances 
are  really  only  phenomena  in  the  sense  just  explained,  that 
would  only  concern  the  metaphysical  application,  and  not 
the  mental  function,  of  the  idea.  In  fact,  the  origin  and 
function  of  the  idea  remain  the  same,  even  if  its  objective 
validity  be  denied. 

By  substance  is  meant  reality  in  reference  to  its  attri- 
butes. By  cause  is  meant  reality  in  reference  to  its 
activities.  For  certain  attributes,  or  qualities,  the  mind 
posits  a  real  subject  which  has  them.  This  is  conceived 
as  the  ground  of  their  existence,  and  as  the  abiding  prin- 
ciple of  unity  among  them.  The  several  attributes  of  a 
thing  are  not  supposed  to  coexist  in  mutual  indifference, 
but  to  be  bound  together  by  some  real  principle  of  unity, 
which  determines  both  their  coexistence  and  the  order  of 
their  succession.  In  the  external  world  the  notion  of  sub- 
stance is  represented  by  the  notion  of  thing;  in  the  in- 
ternal world,  by  the  notion  of  soul  and  spirit.  Both  alike 
are  conceived  of  as  the  real  subject  of  their  attributes, 
and  as  the  principle  of  unity  among  them.  Here  we  reach 
another  of  the  great  battle-fields  of  psychology. 

That  the  idea  of  substance  cannot  be  derived  from  the 
senses  is  evident,  and  for  the  reason  that  the  senses  do 
not  reach  the  idea.  The  eye  gives  colors,  the  ear  gives 
sounds,  etc.  The  idea  of  substance  is  something  which 
the  mind  brings  into  its  sense  experiences  for  their  ex- 


THE   THOUGHT-FACTOR.  159 

planation.  Sensations  may  be  experienced,  and  they  may 
even  be  projected  as  spatial  syntheses  of  qualities,  or  phe- 
nomena, so  as  to  look  like  the  world  of  real  things ;  but 
there  is  nothing  in  this  to  suggest  the  notion  of  an  abid- 
ing and  identical  reality  behind  the  phenomena  as  their 
ground.  This  idea  can  get  into  the  experience  only  as  the 
mind  brings  it  in. 

To  see  this,  let  us  inquire  what  the  senses  could  give  us 
if  the  mind  had  only  the  principles  of  space  and  time  as 
the  laws  of  its  activity.  Take  the  case  of  a  moving  body. 
In  such  a  case,  we  should  have  a  succession  of  nearly  sim- 
ilar optical  phenomena  at  successive  points  of  space  in 
successive  moments  of  time.  We  should  have  no  more 
identity  than  there  is  in  a  continuously  reproduced  musical 
note.  But  there  is  nothing  in  this  to  lead  to  the  concep- 
tion of  one  and  the  same  real  thing  passing  from  point  to 
point  in  space,  and  remaining  identical  with  itself  through- 
out the  process.  To  transform  this  successive  appearance 
of  optical  phenomena  into  the  motion  of  an  identical  thing, 
the  mind  must  bring  the  notion  of  substance  into  the  ex- 
perience as  the  real  ground  of  the  phenomena,  and  as 
abiding  through  them.  No  matter  how  real  the  world  of 
things  may  be,  the  mind  can  know  it  as  real  only  as  it 
brings  its  experiences  under  the  mental  categories  of  cause 
and  substance.  No  amount  of  association  will  help  us; 
for  the  utmost  that  this  can  do  is  to  produce  complexes 
of  sensation.  Taken  together  with  the  space  principle, 
association  may  produce  phenomena  which  would  look  like 
our  intuitions  of  things  in  space  ;  but  it  could  never  pass 
either  to  the  idea  or  to  the  reality  of  objective  existence. 

To  escape  this  conclusion,  there  are  two  devices :  (1.)  a 
polemic  against  the  idea  of  substance,  and  (2.)  an  identifica- 
tion of  substance  with  a  group  of  sensations.  The  polemic 
is  metaphysical,  and  claims  to  reduce  external  existence  to 
a  group  of  qualities,  and  internal  existence  to  a  series  of 


160 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


mental  states.     The  second  device  consists  in  deducing  the 
idea  of  substance  by  calling  it  something  else. 

The  metaphysical  discussion  is  largely  irrelevant  to  the 
psychological  question  as  to  the  origin  and  nature  of  the 
idea.  It  is,  moreover,  almost  entirely  a  series  of  deduc- 
tions from  psychological  sensationalism,  which  is  assumed 
to  be  true.  This  was  especially  the  case  with  Hume.  He 
pointed  out  that  neither  the  internal  nor  the  external 
sense  can  give  us  substance,  and  then  undertook  to  adjust 
our  views  to  the  doctrine.  The  aim  is  to  show  that  our 
total  experience  and  knowledge  can  be  adequately  ex- 
pressed in  terms  of  sensations  and  feelings,  real  or  ex- 
pected. That  is,  the  theory  is  first  consulted  to  see  what 
we  may  mean,  and  then  we  are  told  that  is  what  we  do 
and  must  mean.  We  examine  the  doctrine  with  reference 
(1.)  to  the  mental  life  and  (2.)  to  the  external  world. 

The  mind  on  this  theory  is  a  series  of  sensations  and 
feelings,  and  we  are  told  that,  when  we  examine  ourselves, 
we  find  we  mean  nothing  more.  Let  us  see.  By  hypothe- 
sis, these  sensations  are  not  sensations  of  anything,  and 
they  belong  to  nobody.  They  are  simple,  unrelated  sensa- 
tions, as  a,  b,  c,  d,  e,f,  etc.  Of  course,  a  knows  nothing  of 
b,  c,  etc.,  for  then  it  would  be  more  than  a  sensation ;  it 
would  be  a  knowing  subject  having  5,  c,  etc.  for  its  objects. 
But  all  the  rest  are  in  the  same  state,  and  a  consciousness 
of  objects  could  never  arise.  If  we  suppose  association  to 
unite  the  sensations  into  groups,  as  a  be,  bed,  etc.,  we  sim- 
ply have  a  coexistence  of  sensations,  not  a  knowledge  of  that 
coexistence.  But  consciousness,  memory,  and  expectation 
are  possible.  Hence,  some  member  of  the  series,  as  m, 
though  by  hypothesis  only  a  unit  of  sensation  or  feeling, 
must  still,  have  a  knowledge  of  other  members  in  their 
various  relations.  It  must  also,  though  now  existing  for 
the  first  time  and  existing  only  for  an  instant,  have  a 
knowledge  of  past  sensations  as  having  previously  existed 


THE   THOUGHT-FACTOR.  161 

as  states  of  its  experience ;  and  it  must  further  be  able  to 
look  into  the  future,  and  foresee  other  sensations  which  are 
to  become  elements  of  its  experience  after  it  has  ceased, 
by  hypothesis,  to  exist.  But  a  sensation,  or  feeling,  which 
has  other  sensations  and  feelings  together  with  memory 
and  expectation,  and  which,  moreover,  distinguishes  those 
other  sensations  and  feelings  as  its  own  states  and  activi- 
ties, is  precisely  what  others  call  a  mental  subject,  a  real 
agent  and  patient  in  our  internal  experience.  Mr.  Mill 
calls  the  view  a  "  paradox  "  ;  it  is  more  than  this,  it  is 
plain  nonsense.  Not  the  first  step  can  be  taken  in  under- 
standing the  mental  life  without  the  conception  of  a  real 
and  abiding  self. 

The  corresponding  doctrine  of  the  external  world  has 
been  expounded  by  Mr.  Mill  as  well  as  by  any  one.  His 
conclusion  is,  that  things  are  really  only  "  permanent  pos- 
sibilities of  sensation,"  and  that  this  is  all  we  mean  in 
ascribing  reality  to  them.  He  shows  how,  in  the  course 
of  experience,  actual  sensations  must  come  to  be  regarded 
as  fleeting,  in  comparison  with  their  possibility.  Hence 
gradually  the  possibilities  come  to  be  more  prominent  and 
permanent  in  our  thought  than  actual  sensations.  From 
that  time  on,  they  are  regarded  as  things,  which  is  only 
another  name  for  permanent  possibilities  of  sensation.  The 
following  quotation  sums  up  the  conclusion  :  — 

"  The  sensations  conceived  do  not,  to  our  habitual 
thoughts,  present  themselves  as  sensations  actually  expe- 
rienced, inasmuch  as  not  only  any  one  in  any  number  of 
them  may  be  supposed  absent,  but  none  of  them  need  be 
present.  We  find  that  the  modifications  which  are  taking 
place  more  or  less  regularly  in  our  possibilities  of  sensa- 
tion are  mostly  quite  independent  of  our  consciousness, 
and  of  our  presence  or  absence.  Whether  we  are  asleep 
or  awake,  the  fire  goes  out,  and  puts  an  end  to  one  particu- 
lar possibility  of  warmth  and  light.  Whether  we  are  pres> 

11 


162 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ent  or  absent,  the  corn  ripens,  and  brings  a  new  possibility 
of  food.  Hence  we  speedily  think  to  learn  of  Nature  as 
manifested  in  the  modifications  of  some  of  these  by  others. 
The  sensations,  though  the  original  foundation  of  the  whole, 
come  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  accident  depending  on 
us,  and  the  possibilities  are  much  more  real  than  the  actual 
sensations,  nay,  as  the  very  realities  of  which  these  arc 
only  the  representations,  appearances,  or  effects.  When 
this  state  of  mind  has  been  arrived  at,  then,  and  from  that 
time  forward,  we  are  never  conscious  of  a  present  sensa- 
tion without  instantaneously  referring  it  to  some  one  of 
the  groups  of  possibilities  into  which  a  sensation  of  that 
particular  description  enters ;  and  if  we  do  not  yet  know 
to  what  group  to  refer  it,  we  at  least  feel  an  irresistible 
conviction  that  it  must  belong  to  some  groups  or  others ; 
i.  e.  that  its  presence  proves  the  existence,  here  and  now, 
of  a  great  number  and  variety  of  possibilities  of  sensation, 
without  which  it  would  not  have  been.  The  whole  set 
of  sensations,  as  possible,  form  a  permanent  background 
to  any  one  or  more  of  them  that  are,  at  a  given  moment, 
actual ;  and  the  possibilities  are  conceived  as  standing  to 
the  actual  sensations  in  the  relation  of  a  cause  to  its  effects, 
or  of  canvas  to  the  figures  painted  on  it,  or  of  a  root  to  the 
trunk,  leaves,  and  flowers,  or  of  a  substratum  to  that  which 
is  spread  over  it,  or,  in  transcendental  language,  of  matter 
to  form."  i 

This  account  is  not  perfectly  clear.  The  system  of  pos- 
sible sensations  seems  to  have  an  objective  existence.  It 
is  spoken  of  as  independent  of  our  presence  and  conscious- 
ness, and  elsewhere  it  is  declared  to  exist  for  other  minds 
as  well  as  our  own.  The  dying  fire  and  the  ripening  corn 
are  given  as  illustrations.  Moreover,  there  is  an  "  active 
force  "  among  them,  which  is  "  manifested  in  the  modifica- 
tion of  some  of  these  by  others."  Further,  these  "  possi- 

1  Examination  of  Sir  Wm.  Hamilton's  Philosophy,  Vol.  I.  pp.  240,  241. 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  163 

bilities  are  conceived  as  standing  to  the  actual  sensations 
in  the  relation  of  a  cause  to  its  effect."  But  things  which 
exist  apart  from  our  perception,  have  active  forces,  modify 
one  another,  and  produce  sensational  effects  in  us,  are  bet- 
ter described  as  real  things  than  as  possibilities  of  sensa- 
tion. If  these  words  are  to  be  taken  in  their  ordinary 
sense,  Mr.  Mill  has  given  us,  not  a  new  conception,  but 
only  a  new  terminology.  The  permanent  possibilities  of 
sensation  mean  those  real  things  which  condition  sensa- 
tion. Our  ideas  remain  what  they  were,  but*  language  has 
been  outraged. 

But  Mr.  Mill  can  hardly  have  meditated  so  inglorious  an 
outcome  ;  and  we  must  reckon  the  above  terms  as  speci- 
mens of  his  frequent  use  of  language  to  express  doctrines 
which  his  words  seem  to  contradict.  Let  us  try,  then,  to 
understand  the  phrase  "  permanent  possibilities  of  sensa- 
tion." By  a  possible  sensation,  we  can  only  mean  a  con- 
ception of  a. sensation  which  would  be  realized  in  an  actual 
sensation  if  certain  conditions  were,  fulfilled.  But  such  a 
sensation  represents  nothing  objective  or  permanent.  My 
real  sensations  exist  only  for  myself;  my  possible  sensa- 
tions can  certainly  have  no  more  objectivity.  In  fact,  a 
possible  sensation  is  strictly  nothing  and  nowhere  until 
it  becomes  real,  and  then  it  has  existence  only  for  the 
mind  that  has  it.  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Mill  speaks  of  those 
possibilities  as  objective  and  permanent.  Of  course,  if 
there  were  real  things  external  to  the  mind,  and  capable 
of  acting  upon  it,  many  sensations  might  be  possible  ;  but 
when  the  real  things  are  denied,  the  objective  and  perma- 
nent possibility  is  nothing.  A  possibility  is  always  a  con- 
sequence or  implication  of  something  real,  and  is  a  pure 
figment  of  abstraction  otherwise.  When  next  Mr.  Mill 
speaks  of  the  possible  sensations  as  the  cause  of  actual 
sensations,  we  are  in  the  lowest  depths  of  unintelligibility. 
Thus,  I  see  an  apple,  and  have  a  sensation  of  color.  The 


164  PSYCHOLOGY. 

cause  of  this  actual  sensation  is  the  possibility  of  touching, 
tasting,  and  smelling  the  apple !  By  hypothesis,  the  apple 
is  not  a  substantial  thing,  but  a  complex  possibility  of  sen- 
sation ;  and  I  have  a  sensation  of  color  because  I  might 
have  sensations  of  touch,  taste,  and  smell.  But  if  this  is 
not  the  meaning,  then  the  terms  have  some  occult  sense 
which  has  not  been  revealed  except  to  faith.  In  short,  if 
there  be  a  real  something  external  to  ourselves  which 
causes  sensations,  that  something  is  more  than  a  possi- 
bility ;  it  is  a  'productive  agent.  If  there  is  no  such  thing, 
then  our  sensations  are  only  our  own  states,  and,  however 
complicated  they  may  become  through  association,  they 
can  never  acquire  more  than  a  fictitious  objectivity  and 
independence. 

The  metaphysical  denial  of  the  reality  of  substance  leads 
to  nonsense  in  the  mental  world,  and  to  nihilism  and  sol- 
ipsism in  the  outer  world.  This  only  can  be  allowed,  that 
the  objects  of  sense  perception  may  be  only  phenomena  to 
which  the  mind  has  given  substantial  form;  but  in  that 
case  we  should  still  have  to  affirm  objective  reality  behind 
the  phenomena  as  their  ground,  and  we  should  also  have  to 
affirm  substance  as  a  mental  principle  to  explain  the  sub- 
stantial form  which  the  mind  gives  its  phenomena. 

The  psychological  origin  of  the  idea  needs  little  separate 
discussion.  The  senses  do  not  give  it.  Not  the  eye,  for 
then  it  would  be  a  color ;  not  the  ear,  for  then  it  would  be 
a  sound ;  not  the  nose,  for  then  it  would  be  an  odor ;  not 
touch,  for  then  it  would  be  a  feeling  of  pressure  or  resist- 
ance. Nor  can  any  combination  of  these  sensations  repre- 
sent it.  I  have  this  or  that  sensation,  or  I  expect  this  or 
that  sensation,  can  never  be  made  to  mean  that  this  or  that 
real  thing  exists.  We  cannot  identify  this  idea  of  reality 
with  any  groupings  or  possibilities  of  sensation.  The  lat- 
ter phrase  defies  all  construction  until  we  bring  the  idea 
of  reality  into  it.  The  idea  of  substance  which  sensation- 


THE   THOUGHT-FACTOR.  165 

alism  explains  is  not  the  one  we  have ;  and  the  idea  we 
have  is  not  explained.  There  is  a  certain  excess  in  the 
actual  idea  over  any  possible  work  of  association ;  and  the 
excess  contains  the  gist  of  the  idea.  The  ground  of  this 
excess  must  be  sought  in  the  laws  of  the  mind  itself. 
Hume  refers  this  excess  of  our  rational  ideas  over  sensa- 
tional compounds  to  a  mental  "  propensity  to  feign."  That 
is,  they  are  of  subjective  origin  after  all ;  and  since  the 
"  propensity  to  feign  "  is  universal,  it  may,  with  more  pro- 
priety, be  called  a  law  of  thought.  The  "  propensity  to 
feign"  means  only  that  the  mind,  on  its  own  warrant, 
transcends  simple  sense  experience  by  bringing  certain  ra- 
tional elements  into  the  sensations  for  their  rationalization 
and  interpretation.  We  regard  substance,  therefore,  as  pri- 
marily a  mental  principle,  and  secondarily  as  an  ontological 
reality  ;  but  the  recognition  of  substance  as  reality  is  possi- 
ble only  because  of  its  control  as  a  mental  principle. 

The  principle  of  causation  whereby  the  mind  brings  its 
objects  into  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  next  demands 
consideration.  This,  too,  is  no  datum  of  experience,  but  a 
mental  contribution  by  the  reason  in  order  to  comprehend 
experience.  Since  the  time  of  Hume,  sensationalism  has 
sought  (1.)  to  deny  the  objective  validity  of  the  idea,  (2.)  to 
deduce  the  idea,  and  (3.)  to  reduce  it  to  something  else. 
By  causation  is  meant  any  production  or  determination  of 
one  thing  by  another,  or  the  production  or  modification  of 
any  state  of  a  thing  by  any  other  state  of  the  same  thing. 

The  denial  of  the  objective  validity  of  the  idea  rests  upon 
the  assumed  truth  of  the  sensational  theory  of  knowledge. 
The  senses  can  never  give  us  causal  connection,  even  when 
they  are  supplemented  by  the  temporal  and  spatial  activity 
of  the  mind.  Even  then  we  have  only  a  coexistence  and 
sequence  of  phenomena.  The  sequence  may  be  irregular, 
and  it  may  be  constant ;  but  it  is  still  sequence,  and  not 
efficiency.  And  since  the  senses  cannot  give  us  causal 


166 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


connection,  there  is  no  such  thing.  In  that  case  no  mental 
state  is  affected  by  any  antecedent  mental  state,  for  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  affection.  If,  then,  we  now  have  the 
thought  of  a  variety  of  past  experiences,  that  is  not  due 
to  our  having  had  a  past  experience;  for  that  would  be 
to  suppose  the  antecedents  to  condition  the  consequents. 
In  short,  it  would  not  be  due  to  anything.  The  present 
thought  would  be  what  it  is,  causeless  and  groundless. 
Again,  our  mental  states  would  not  be  the  products  of 
any  system  of  external  things,  for  that  would  be  to  assume 
causation  again.  Each  mental  state,  whether  referring  to 
a  past  experience  or  to  a  world  of  objects,  would  be  only 
a  mental  state,  causeless  and  groundless.  It  would  contain 
no  warrant  for  transcending  itself ;  and  if  we  continued  to 
allow  a  mental  subject,  solipsism  would  be  the  result.  Un- 
less we  are  prepared  to  dive  into  this  depth  of  absurdity, 
the  objective  validity  of  causation  must  be  allowed.  It  is, 
indeed,  possible  that  our  apparent  objects  are  only  phenom- 
ena, and  have  no  dynamic  relations  among  themselves ; 
but  even  then  we  should  have  to  affirm  an  efficient  ground 
behind  them,  which  produces  them  and  determines  their 
laws  and  relations. 

The  metaphysical  question  is  irrelevant  to  the  psycho- 
logical question.  For  if  the  idea  were  denied  to  have  any 
metaphysical  validity,  its  psychological  existence  and  logi- 
cal function  would  remain  the  same.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
we  do  establish  relations  of  cause  and  effect  among  our 
objects,  and  this  fact  must  be  accounted  for.  Temporal 
succession  and  spatial  coexistence  reveal  no  such  relations ; 
whence,  then,  does  the  idea  come  ?  The  deduction  of  the 
idea  from  experience  consists  in  taking  for  granted  the  world 
of  things  in  causal  relations.  This  conception  being  kept 
well  in  mind,  sensations  are  supposed  to  be  generated,  and 
invariable  relations  of  sequence  are  supposed  to  be  estab- 
lished. When  this  process  has  gone  on  for  some  time  and 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  167 

the  product  has  bec*ome  very  complex,  we  may  suppose 
that  "  internal  relations "  among  sensations  have  been 
"  adjusted  "  to  "  external  relations  "  among  things.  But 
the  "  external  relations  "  were  relations  of  causality  among 
real  things.  We  remember  this,  and  the  deduction  is  com- 
plete. So  naturally  and  spontaneously  does  the  mind  affirm 
the  causal  relation,  that  it  never  occurs  to  the  speculator 
and  his  disciples  that  the  mind  can  pass  to  that  world  of 
real  things  in  causal  relations  only  by  virtue  of  the  causal 
principle.  The  raw  material  of  perception  is  sensations ; 
and  these  have  to  be  built  into  a  world  of  things  before 
such  a  world  can  be  known.  However  real  that  world 
may  be,  it  can  be  reached  only  through  a  principle  in  the 
mind  itself,  whereby  it  brings  its  objects  into  the  relation 
of  cause  and  effect.  When  this  is  borne  in  mind,  it  will 
not  seem  to  be  so  brilliant  an  effort  of  analysis  to  assume 
in  the  data  the  idea  to  be  explained. 

We  must,  then,  reduce  the  idea  to  something  else,  or 
regard  it  as  a  mental  datum  of  reason  itself.  This  reduc- 
tion was  attempted  by  Hume  in  the  assurance  that  by  cau- 
sation we  mean  only  invariable  antecedence  and  sequence. 
This  was  met  by  Reid  with  the  objection  that  there  are" 
cases  of  invariable  antecedence  and  sequence,  as  day  and 
night,  which  are  not  regarded  as  in  causal  relations.  Mill 
proposes  to  amend  the  definition  by  adding  "unconditional." 
"  Invariable  sequence,  therefore,  is  not  synonymous  with 
causation,  unless  the  sequence,  besides  being  invariable,  is 
unconditional.  .  .  .  We  may  define,  therefore,  the  cause  of 
a  phenomenon  to  be  the  antecedent,  or  the  concurrence  of 
antecedents,  on  which  it  is  invariably  and  unconditionally 
consequent."1  "  Unconditionally"  is  defined  as  "  subject  to 
no  other  than  negative  conditions  "  ;  and  "  negative  condi- 
tions .  .  .  may  all  be  summed  up  under  one  head,  namely, 
the  absence  of  preventing  or  counteracting  causes."2 

1  System  of  Logic,  8th  edition,  p.  245.  2  Ibid.,  p.  241. 


168  PSYCHOLOGY. 

In  the  first  quotation  Mr.  Mill  seems  to  be  defining  cau- 
sation as  meaning  invariable  unconditional  sequence.  In 
the  second,  his  language  may  be  interpreted  as  defining 
causation,  or  as  indicating  which  of  various  antecedents  is 
the  cause.  This  ambiguity  is  increased  by  the  fact  that 
Mr.  Mill  disclaims  all  reference  to  efficient  causation,  his 
aim  being  to  define  causation  as  used  in  inductive  science. 
At  the  same  time,  he  often  lapses  into  the  assumption  that 
this  definition  includes  all  there  is  in  causation,  and  that 
any  excess  in  the  philosophic  conception  is  a  speculative 
phantom.  In  either  case,  it  is  rather  discouraging  to  find 
the  notion  defined  appearing  in  the  definition.  Thus  cau- 
sation is  not  invariable  sequence,  but  "invariable  uncon- 
ditional sequence";  but  an  unconditional  sequence  is  one 
which  always  occurs  when  not  hindered  by  "  preventing  or 
counteracting  causes."  Mr.  Mill's  laborious,  attempt  to 
find  a  formula  to  take  the  place  of  the  principle  of  causa- 
tion results  iii  producing  one  which  demands  the  idea  of 
causation  for  its  comprehension.  One  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary features  of  this  attempt  to  reduce  causation  to 
invariable  sequence  is  the  failure  to  notice  that  in  that 
case  we  should  affirm  causation  as  the  rare  exception,  and 
not  as  the  universal  rule.  Nature  does  not  present  itself 
as  a  series  of  invariable  sequences,  but  as  a  highly  variable 
order  of  succession.  The  belief  in  uniformity  is  a  late 
product;  while  the  belief  in  causation  is  as  old  as  the 
mind.  The  belief  in  uniformity  is  even  now  a  scientific 
rather  than  a  popular  belief ;  and  the  uniformity  in  most 
cases  is  believed  in  rather  than  perceived.  One  would 
think,  to  read  the  reductions  of  causation  to  uniformity,  that 
nature  is  a  series  of  straight  lines,  instead  of  a  tangled  web 
whose  pattern  is  mostly  a  matter  of  guess-work. 

The  aim  of  inductive  science  is  to  find  the  uniformities 
of  nature ;  and  our  definition  of  causation  is  irrelevant  to 
this  aim.  Further,  we  may  suppose  a  formula  invented 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  169 

which  should  cover  every  case  of  causation  and  exclude 
all  others,  yet  without  covering  causation  itself.  Let  us 
admit  that  the  relation  of  causation  involves  the  invariable 
and  unconditional  sequence  of  the  effect,  we  still  have  only 
a  mark  and  consequence  of  the  relation,  and  not  the  relation 
itself.  To  be  sure,  we  ought  not  to  mean  any  more  than 
sequence,  but  we  do  mean  more.  We  do  not  mean  that 
one  state  of  things  was,  and  another  state  is ;  we  mean 
that  one  state  is  because  another  state  was.  This  idea  of 
efficiency,  of  determination,  is  omitted  from  the  temporal 
formula ;  and  yet  this  is  the  gist  of  the  matter.  As  in  the 
case  of  substance,  the  idea  we  have  is  not  explained,  but 
rather  the  idea  which  we  ought  to  have  but  have  not.  We 
must  take  our  choice.  If  causation  be  real  efficiency,  the 
idea  cannot  be  deduced  from  sense  experience.  If  it  mean 
only  sequence,  then  no  thing  or  state  of  things  affects  any- 
thing else,  or  produces  any  new  state  of  things.  In  that 
case  our  sensations  point  to  nothing  beyond  themselves. 
Every  mental  state  simply  is  as  it  is  and  while  it  is.  Any 
reference  of  it  to  objective  things  or  persons  as  its  cause 
is  groundless.  Likewise  any  reference  to  past  experience 
as  explaining  its  peculiarities  is  equally  groundless.  It  is 
as  it  is,  and  where  and  when  it  is,  for  no  reason  or  cause 
at  all.  It  simply  is. 

This  view  would  cancel  sensationalism  entirely.  A  curi- 
ous inconsequence  has  always  appeared  in  sensationalist 
philosophy  at  this  point.  The  aim  has  been  to  represent 
all  rational  ideas  as  products  of  sensation  and  the  laws  of 
association.  But  when  this  is  applied  to  causation,  the 
philosophy  cancels  itself.  For  all  the  manifold  "  explana-: 
tions "  which  sensationalism  has  vouchsafed  to  a  long- 
suffering  world  consist  in  showing  how  antecedent  mental 
states  must  determine  new  mental  states  according  to  the 
laws  of  association ;  and  as  for  sensations  most  sensational- 
ists have  had  no  hesitation  in  referring  them  to  external 


170 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


causes  without  scruple,  or  even  suspicion  of  the  inconsist- 
ency.    Concerning  any  conception  of  our  mature  life,  we 
are  warned  against  taking  it  as  an  original  mental  fact. 
We  are  told  how  it  came  about  as  a  deposit  of  experience 
either  in  us  or  in  our  ancestors.     If  a  suggestion  of  free- 
dom is  made,  it  is.  frowned  upon  forthwith  as  one  of  the 
most  unscientific  ideas  possible,  if  not  a  trace  of  an  anti- 
quated superstition.     But  if  sensationalism  be  admitted, 
all  this  is  hopelessly  inconsistent.     No  idea  is,  or  is  as  it 
is,  because  any  other  idea  was;  rather  some  ideas  were, 
and  some  other  ideas  are.     To  suppose  an  influence,  a 
modification,  is  contrary  to  the  hypothesis.     It  is  equally 
so  to  assume  a  world  beyond  our  sensations,  a  process  of 
evolution,  etc.     To  suppose  a  determination  in  volition  is 
likewise  to  fly  in  the  face  of  the  theory.     If  anything  is  or 
occurs,  we  must  not  ask  why ;  for  there  is  no  why.     Thus 
all  the  explanations  of  sensationalism  disappear,  and  by 
sheer  excess  the  doctrine  cancels  itself. 

We  have  the  idea  of  causation.  It  cannot  be  abstracted 
from  experience,  for  the  reason  that  it  cannot  be  found  in 
experience  until  the  mind  puts  it  there.  We  cannot  get 
along  without  it.  The  sensationalist  can  neither  explain 
it  nor  explain  it  away.  We  must,  then,  regard  the  law  of 
causation  as  primarily  a  mental  principle  upon  which  our 
rational  life  depends.  Its  ontological  significance  may  be 
left  to  metaphysics. 

The  conditions  of  the  development  of  the  ideas  of  cause 
and  substance  admit  of  no  sharp  determination.  The  most 
general  statement  would  be,  that  the  notion  of  cause  is  devel- 
oped only  through  the  perception  of  change,  and  the  notion 
of  substance  only  through  some  perception  of  permanence. 

In  the  external  world  the  notion  of  substance  is  expressed 
in  the  notion  of  thing ;  and  to  the  formation  of  this  notion 
there  are  necessary  (1.)  a  spatial  separation  and  (2.)  a 
temporal  continuity.  Space  is  pre-eminently  the  principle 


THE   THOUGHT-FACTOR.  171 

by  which  we  differentiate  things ;  and  when  this  is  impos- 
sible, we  view  the  thing  as  one.  Temporal  continuity  is 
also  the  principle  by  which  we  identify  things.  We  regard 
a  thing  as  the  same,  no  matter  what  changes  of  form  and 
quality  it  may  undergo,  if  there  be  a  temporal  continuity  of 
phenomena  connected  with  it.  On  the  other  hand,  a  con> 
plete  likeness  of  properties  would  not  be  taken  as  pointing 
to  the  same  thing,  if  we  assumed  a  solution  of  continuity  in 
the  thing's  changes.  Such  a  fact  would  be  interpreted  as  the 
disappearance  of  one  thing  and  the  appearance  of  another. 
This  spatial  separation  and  temporal  continuity,  which  were 
originally  necessary  to  the  formation  of  the  notion  of  a 
thing,  we  retain  as  marks  of  a  thing  even  when  it  eludes 
our  perception.  The  atomic  theory  and  the  doctrine  of  the 
indestructibility  of  matter  are  examples. 

Change  is  necessary  to  the  development  of  the  idea  of 
causation.  This  is  the  truth  in  the  claim  that  sequence 
leads  to  the  notion.  It  does  lead  to  it,  but  it  floes  not 
give  it.  Any  variation  of  one  thing  with  another  leads  to 
the  notion  of  causal  connection. 

It  is  often  claimed  that  this  idea  arises  only  from  the 
consciousness  of  our  own  activity,  so  that,  if  we  were  not 
volitional  and  active,  the  conception  of  causation  would 
never  arise.  This  implies  (1.)  that  we  have  a  direct  con- 
sciousness of  causation  in  our  own  activity,  and  (2.)  that 
this  is  the  source  of  all  ideas  of  causation. 

The  first  point  is  mistaken,  so  far  as  our  external  action 
is  concerned.  In  the  control  of  our  body  we  are  only  occa- 
sions for  the  agency  of  some  foreign  power ;  our  activity 
extends  only  to  the  production  of  the  volition.  We  are 
not,  then,  conscious  of  ourselves  as  causes  in  the  outer 
world.  It  may  also  be  questioned  how  far  our  inner  cau- 
sality is  a  matter  of  direct  consciousness.  But  admitting 
such  consciousness,  the  question  would  next  arise  whether 
this  is  a  case  of  causation  or  the  meaning  of  causation. 


172 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


If  we  call  it  a  case,  then  the  causal  idea  is  presupposed. 
If  we  identify  it  with  causation,  then  we  must  say  that 
causation  means  willing  guided  by  purpose.  But  in  fact 
causation  does  not  mean  this  primarily  for  the  great  ma- 
jority even  of  thinkers.  Such  an  identification,  if  reached 
at  all,  must  emerge  as  the  result  of  a  long  course  of  meta- 
physical reasoning,  and  not  as  an  analysis  of  the  simple 
notion  of  causation.  And  even  this  would  apply  only  to 
causation  in  things.  But  mental  states  modify  one  another, 
and  we  apply  the  notion  of  causation  to  them ;  yet  in  most 
cases  they  are  not  products  of  any  assignable  volition,  and 
still  less  can  they  be  supposed  to  have  volition.  When  the 
idea  a  is  in  the  mind,  the  idea  b  is  produced.  Here  is 
causation,  but  whichever  way  we  read  it  we  cannot  get  the 
idea  of  volition  into  it.  We  do  not  will  the  appearance 
of  5,  nor  does  a  will  it.  Nor  is  there  any  way  of  getting 
will  into  the  problem  except  by  saying  that  the  First 
Cause  wills  b  on  occasion  of  a. 
The  truth  in  this  general  claim  is  this  :  — 

1.  We  cannot  represent  causation  to  ourselves  except 
under  a  psychological  form.     Hence  the  mind  has  often 
sought  to  interpret  it  anthropomorphically  by  attributing  a 
kind  of  will  to  the  cause  and  a  kind  of  feeling  to  the  thing 
acted  upon.     When  this  is  left  out  there  remains  only  the 
representation  of  antecedence  and  sequence,  with  the  con- 
viction, however,  that  we  mean  more,  even  the  unrepresent- 
able notion  of  efficiency. 

2.  Our  own  activities  are  especially  effective  in  awaking 
the  notion  of  cause.     In  particular,  the  resistance  we  ex- 
perience in  our  dealing  with  the  external  world  is  pecu- 
liarly adapted  to  lead  to  a  differentiation  of  the  self  and 
the  not-self.     We  may  well  believe  that,  if  we  were  simply 
intellectual  lookers-on  upon  the  movements  of  phenomena, 
we  should  be  much  longer  in  reaching  the  idea  of  causation 
than  we  are  when  we  are  ourselves  in  volitional  interaction 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  173 

with  the  outer  world.  But  if  our  rational  nature  remained 
unchanged,  the  demand  for  a  cause  would  arise  even  apart 
from  all  voluntary  activity.  For  while  the  will  may  reveal 
a  case  of  causation,  it  is  the  reason  which  demands  causa- 
tion and  declares  it  universal. 

The  formulated  principle  of  causation  is,  of  course,  sec- 
ond, and  not  first.  As  in  the  case  of  space,  the  mind  does 
not  begin  with  an  idea  of  one  all-embracing  space,  but  rather 
begins  by  setting  particular  objects  into  space  relations,  so 
here  also  the  mind  does  not  begin  with  a  general  formula, 
but  by  affirming  causal  relations  among  its  objects.  It  is 
only  later,  through  a  reflection  upon  its  procedure  in  so 
doing,  that  the  mind  reaches  the  generalized  principle  that 
every  event  or  change  must  have  a  cause. 

The  notions  of  cause  and  substance  stand  in  the  most 
intimate  relations  to  each  other,  and  mutually  affect  each 
other's  development.  Likewise  they  receive  various  modi- 
fications in  their  several  applications.  The  element  of  cau- 
sality taken  up  into  the  notion  of  a  thing  modifies  greatly 
the  notion  of  substance  by  turning  its  qualities  into  activi- 
ties. In  this  way  arise  such  notions  as  force,  energy, 
power,  capacity,  etc.  These  are  causal  terms  considered  as 
denoting  qualities  of  a  substance.  Similarly,  in  psychology 
we  have  faculties,  capacities,  impulses,  etc.  The  develop- 
ment and  analysis  of  these  ideas  must  be  handed  over  to 
logic  and  metaphysics. 

The  general  aim  of  this  chapter  has  been  to  show  that 
there  are  two  orders  of  movement  in  the  mind.  The  first  • 
comprises  the  sensations  and  their  changes,  according  to 
the  laws  of  association.  The  second  comprises  the  reac- 
tion upon  the  sensations,  and  the  establishment  of  relations 
among  them  for  their  rationalization  and  interpretation. 
The  former  is  a  phase  of  the  sensibility ;  the  latter  is  an 
activity  of  thought  or  reason.  The  former  furnishes  the 
raw  material;  the  latter  gives  it  form  and  interpretation. 


PSYCHOLOGY. 

There  is  no  possibility  of  either  of  these  passing  into  the 
other.  The  rational  activity  cannot  dispense  with  the  raw 
material  of  sensibility;  and  the  attempts  to  elevate  the 
sensibility  to  the  plane  of  reason  by  the  force  of  association 
belong  to  the  sorriest  efforts  of  speculation. 

Within  the  general  aim  mentioned,  the  specific  aim  has 
been  to  discuss  the  leading  rational  relations  which  consti- 
tute the  framework  of  knowledge,  and  ultimately  of  intelli- 
gence itself.     The  mind  attains  to  knowledge  only  through 
the  establishment  of  these  relations.     If  we  drop  them  out 
of  our  mental  scheme,  the  whole  system  of  knowledge  falls 
together  in  a  chaotic  mass,  and  thought  perishes.     But  it 
has  not  been  our  aim  to  write  the  psychological  history  of 
the  categories,  but  only  to  determine  their  source  and  seat. 
We  do  not  regard  them  as  existing  primarily  as  ideas,  but 
as  being  determinative  principles  of  mental  procedure,  or 
as  constitutive  principles  of  intelligence.     Supposing  this 
established,  one  may  go  on  to  study  the  order  and  con- 
ditions of  their  manifestation.     The  question  whether  they 
mediate  a  valid  knowledge  also  remains  open.     All  that 
appears  at  present  is,  that  there  are  certain  directive  and 
constitutive  principles  in  the  developed  mental  life,  which 
can  only  be  viewed  as  expressing  the  fundamental  build 
of  the  mind  itself. 

We  have  discussed  only  the  leading  categories.  Whether 
a.  completed  system  of  categories  is  possible  is  much  dis- 
cussed; our  own  conviction  is  that  it  is  not  possible.  The 
•categories,  also,  do  not  admit  of  deduction  from  a  single 
root.  This  ideal  has  been  fondly  cherished,  and  eagerly 
followed ;  but  we  have  to  take  them  as  given,  without 
any  hope  of  deducing  one  from  another.  It  can  never  be 
shown  that  a  being  who  has  experiences  in  time  must  also 
project  them  under  the  form  of  space,  or  that  the  category 
of  causation  implies  space  relations. 


THE  THOUGHT-FACTOR.  •  175 


APPENDIX  TO  CHAPTER  IV. 

As  the  sensational  philosophy  is  supposed  to  have  re- 
ceived great  aid  and  comfort  from  the  doctrine  of  evolu- 
tion, it  seems  desirable  to  consider  briefly  its  bearings 
upon  psychology. 

No  individual  experience  is  able  to  transform  sensations 
into  the  ideas  and  categories  of  the  reason.  It  is  sug- 
gested, however,  that  a  race-experience  might  accomplish 
this  wonder  in  such  a  way  that  what  is  now  apriori  for  the 
individual  may  be  aposteriori  for  the  race.  By  heredity 
the  individual  •  inherits  the  experience  of  his  ancestors,  and 
thus  mental  forms  and  faculties  are  produced  as  the  inte- 
gral of  this  race-experience.  This  suggestion  has  been 
eagerly  adopted,  and  has  been  supposed  greatly  tcx  extend 
the  resources  of  the  sensational  school.  In  fact,  it  leaves 
the  argument  weaker  than  it  was  before  ;  as  it  in  no  wise 
strengthens  the  positive  argument,  and  has  in  addition 
many  special  difficulties  of  its  own.  In  particular,  it  re- 
jects the  sensationalist's  analysis  of  the  individual  con- 
sciousness, and  declares  that  this  cannot  be  understood 
as  the  outcome  of  the  individual  experience.  If,  then,  it 
cannot  make  its  theory  of  a  race-experience  work,  it  has 
surrendered  in  advance.  The  difficulties  are  commonly 
kept  out  of  sight  by  words ;  all  the  more  necessary  is  it 
to  seek  to  comprehend  the  process. 

Inasmuch  as  this  theory  is  often  joined  with  materialism, 
we  first  point  out  that  materialism  cannot  be  joined  with  any 
sensational  philosophy  without  mutual  destruction.  The 
grounds  for  this  claim  are  these  :  — 

1.  Materialism  is  opposed  to  sensationalism  and  empiri- 
cism, because  it  deduces  all  mental  states  from  physical 


176 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


structure.     They  represent  no  deposit  of  experience  at  all ; 
but  are  solely  the  subjective  expression  of  a  special  phase 
of  molecular  aggregation  and  movement.     This  is  so  much 
the  case,  that,  if  the  physical  double  of  any  person  were  pro- 
duced at  first  hand  from  inorganic  raw  material,  it  would 
have  all  the  memories,  expectations,  knowledge,  and  mental 
insight  of  the  person  himself.     Of  course,  the  organism 
might  be  slowly  developed,  but  the  mental  states,  as  such, 
would  be  at  every  point  only  the  necessary  subjective  ex- 
pression of  what  the  body  is  at  that  moment,  and  would 
have  no  more  connection  among  themselves  than  the  cloud- 
shadows  which  chase  one  another  over  the  fields  on  a  sum- 
mer's day.     For  a  given  kind  and  shade  of  feeling,  there 
would   be  a   special   molecular  grouping.     For  a  specific 
thought  or  judgment,  there  would  be  another  and  peculiar 
grouping.     For  moral  ideas  and  for  religious  conceptions, 
likewise,  there  would  be  specific  and  definite  groupings.    On 
this  theory,  what  is  needed  for  an  all-embracing  memory, 
for  the  profoundest  insight  into  present  and  future,  and 
even  for  the  loftiest  moral  and  religious  aspirations,  is  not 
mental  experience,  but  the  proper  organism.     The  mental 
results,  also,  are  never  anything  contingent  and  adventi- 
tious, but  rather  something  inherent  and  essential.     The 
intuition,  the  morality,  the  religion,  are  all  as  inherent  in 
the  nature  of  matter  as  gravitation  and  affinity,  and  need 
only  the  fulfilment  of  certain  conditions  for  their  manifesta- 
tions.    There  may  be  an  order  of  succession,  but  there  can 
be  no  psychological  transformation  of  lower  into  higher 
forms.     The  theory  provides  only  for  succession,  not  for 
transformation.     To  be  sure,  the  materialist  has  generally 
been  a  sensationalist,  and  having,  as  he  thinks,  explained 
sensations,  he  then  leaves  them  to  combine  on  their  own 
account.     But  in   so  doing  he  forgets  that  in  his  theory 
feelings  have   no   power  to  come,  or  go,  or  combine,  of 
themselves,  and  that  every  mental  state  is  what  it -is,  a 


THE   THOUGHT,FACTOR.  177 

subjective  phase  of  a  special  form  of  molecular  grouping 
and  movement,  and  not  in  any  sense  a  modification  of 
other  mental  states.  Materialism  ought  to  teach  a  lofty 
form  of  apriorisin.  The  existing  alliance  between  materi- 
alism and  sensationalism  is  one  of  the  many  inconsisten- 
cies of  evolutionary  thinking. 

2.  Conversely,  sensationalism  is  incompatible  with  mate- 
rialism ;  for,  as  we  have  already  seen,  sensationalism,  when 
reasoned  out,  must  deny  matter  as  an  objective  reality 
altogether.  Matter  becomes  only  a  group  of  sensations 
projected  as  an  object,  and  so  far  from  explaining  the 
existence  of  mind,  it  is  dependent  upon  inind  for  its  own 
existence. 

Psychological  transformationism  is  impossible  where  there 
is  not  a  real  mental  subject.  Now  all  that  heredity  could 
do  in  this  direction  would  be  still  more  probable  if  we  sup- 
pose one  and  the  same  person  to  live  through  the  life  of  tbe 
race.  Such  a  fact  would  be  the  most  favorable  for  the  pro- 
posed transformation  ;  but  the  considerations  already  de- 
duced in  considering  the  deductions  of  the  ideas  of  space, 
cause,  and  substance  are  fatal  to  its  success.  The  diffi- 
culties there  dwelt  upon  had  nothing  to  do  with  time ; 
and  they  would  be  no  less  if  the  time  were  indefinitely 
extended.  The  premises  were  incommensurable  with  the 
conclusion ;  and  there  is  nothing  in  simple  duration  to 
fill  up  the  gulf  between  them.  It  was  necessary  at  last  to 
falsify  the  ideas,  and  call  something  else  by  their  name ; 
and  this  was  the  deduction.  And  so  it  would  be  if  we 
supposed  the  individual  experience  to  be  of  indefinite 
duration.  The  ambiguity  of  the  facts  of  successive  de- 
velopment, and  the  fanciful  character  of  the  "  chem- 
istry of  ideas,"  have  already  been  pointed  out.  Hence 
in  this  most  favorable  case  we  are  no  better  off  as  sensa- 
tionalists with  the  doctrine  of  evolution  than  without  it. 
The  strange  terms  and  long  times  impress  the  imagina- 

12 


178 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


tion  and  minds   of  a  passive  type,  but  have  no  rational 
significance. 

The  actual  circumstances  are  far  more  unfavorable  to 
success,  as  they  involve  a  series  of  different  minds,  and  it 
becomes  a  difficult  problem  to  connect  a  race-experience 
with  an  individual  experience.  Of  course  the  solution  is 
found  in  heredity,  but  this  is  a  word  more  easily  pro- 
nounced than  understood.  Let  a,  b,  c,  d,  etc.  represent  the 
successive  members  of  a  genealogical  series ;  these  mem- 
bers are  ontologically  as  distinct  as  different  atoms.  But 
if  the  notion  of  a  race-experience  is  to  help  us,  there  must 
be  some  way  whereby  the  experience  of  a  may  become  that 
of  b,  etc.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  not  become  5's  own 
experience,  nor  yet- be  known  as  a's  experience;  for  then, 
in  one  form  or  another,  the  memories  of  the  later  members 
of  the  series  would  go  back  to  the  beginning.  Experience, 
then,  must  be  transmitted  as  tendencies  or  capacities  of 
some  sort,  and  not  as  conscious  knowledge  or  conceptions 
of  any  kind.  If  we  ask  how  this  is  done,  we  are  referred 
to  heredity  ;  but  heredity  is  the  problem,  not  its  solution. 

The  current  device  for  solving  this  problem  supposes  the 
transmission  to  take  place  through  physical  modifications, 
especially  of  the  brain,  which  are  transmitted  by  heredity. 
In  this  way  posterity  inherit  improved  brains,  and  through 
them  improved  thought.  This  puts  the  mystery  of  heredity 
in  the  physical  realm.  The  device  limps  in  the  following 
respects. 

1.  If  it  were  so,  the  fact  would  be  ambiguous.  On  any 
theory,  an  improved  brain  must  lead  to  improved  mental 
action,  other  things  being  equal.  Such  a  brain  would  be 
more  pliant  to  mental  demands,  and  would  furnish  the  mind 
a  finer  and  subtler  stimulus  to  the  unfolding  of  its  own 
proper  powers ;  but  such  a  fact  would  be  irrelevant  to  the 
present  question.  It  remains  undecided,  then,  whether  the 
effect  of  heredity  is  to  transmit  a  mental  experience  or 


THE   THOUGHT-FACTOR.  179 

merely  to  produce  a  more  facile  organ.  The  former  view 
is  the  only  relevant  one. 

2.  Against  this  view,  we  have  seen  that  all  known  facts 
oppose  the  theory  that  ideas  are  represented  by  any  structu- 
ral combinations  in  the  brain.  But  if  they  were,  and  if 
those  combinations  were  reproduced  in  the  brains  of  de- 
scendants, there  would  be  no  transmission  of  ideas,  but 
only  a  physical  stimulus  to  the  production  of  these  ideas 
by  the  mind.  The  idea  would  still  come  from  the  mind  ; 
and  all  we  should  inherit  would  be  an  incitement  to  its 
production.  Its  ground  and  nature  would  still  be  due  to 
the  mind  in  question,  and  not  to  ancestral  experience.  In 
any  other  sense  than  this,  there  can  be  no  transmission  of 
mental  experience ;  but  this  fails  entirely  to  meet  the  case. 
The  fact  would  be,  that  the  new  mental  subject,  M,  would 
be  in  interaction  with  an  organism  genealogically  connected 
with  antecedent  organisms.  But  this  organism  neither 
thinks  nor  has  thoughts  in  it;  but  merely  stimulates  M 
to  unfold  its  own  proper  nature.  That  M  still  contains  the 
mystery. 

The  truth  is,  that  the  holders  of  this  view  have  generally 
been  haunted  by  the  fancy  that  the  actual  mental  experience 
may  be  handed  bodily  along.  Under  the  influence  of  this 
fancy  they  have  produced  such  highly  elegant  conceptions 
as  "  mind-stuff,"  and  "  psychoplasm,"  and  have  spoken 
freely  of  present  thoughts  and  emotions  as  integrals  or 
echoes  of  all  ancestral  experiences.  But  such  figures  of 
speech  defy  all  interpretation.  The  experience  of  the  in- 
dividual as  a  particular  mental  event  cannot  be  recovered 
by  the  person  himself ;  still  less  can  an  ancestor's  experi- 
ence be  recovered.  If,  then,  we  should  examine  an  evolved 
nervous  system,  we  should  certainly  find  no  sensations  or 
experiences,  or  echoes,  or  integrals  of  mental  states  of  any 
kind,  in  it.  We  should  find  simply  a  physical  organism 
which  has  reached  its  present  state  as  the  result  of  a  long 


180  PSYCHOLOGY. 

process  of  development.  But  it  would  have  no  more  expe- 
rience in  it  than  a  similar  organism  made  direct  from  the 
inorganic  ;  and  in  order  that  the  structure  of  this  evolved 
organism  should  ever  acquire  any  mental  significance,  it 
must  come  into  interaction  with  a  distinct  mental  subject, 
which  shall  not  be  furnished  by  it  with  ready-made  ideas 
and  experiences,  but  which  shall  be  stimulated  by  it  to 
unfold  its  own  essential  nature.  • 

Supposing  all  these  difficulties  surmounted,  we  are  as 
badly  off  as  ever  in  seeing  how  heredity  can  help  us  in 
the  advance  to  new  ideas.  It  seems  clear,  first  of  all,  that 
before  our  ancestors  could  transmit  an  idea  they  must  have 
had  it,  and  that  we  cannot  well  inherit  what  they  did  not 
have.  Mental  heredity  with  all  its  mystery  is  simply  a 
means  of  transmitting  what  is  possessed,  and  not  a  method 
of  originating  new  ideas.  If,  then,  our  ancestors  had  ex- 
perience only  of  sensations,  they  could  by  no  possibility 
have  transmitted  other  than  sensational  experience.  Be- 
fore they  could  do  more,  they  must  have  risen  above  the 
sensational  plane ;  and  this  carries  us  back  to  the  analysis 
of  the  individual  consciousness.  Indeed,  heredity,  instead 
of  giving  us  more  than  our  ancestors  had,  would  rather  give 
us  less ;  as  the  transmission  takes  place  in  the  form  of  ten- 
dencies and  instincts,  rather  than  in  conscious  and  rational 
perception.  For  example,  our  moral  instincts  are  supposed 
to  be  due  to  ancestral  perceptions  of  utility ;  hence,  where 
our  ancestors  had  a  rational  perception  of  utility  we  have 
an  instinct  from  which  the  rational  element  has  disap- 
peared. The  intelligence  has  "  lapsed  "  by  transmission. 

In  these  mechanical  notions  of  transmission  there  is  the 
crude  fancy  before  mentioned,  that  ideas  are  something 
which  can  be  passed  along  bodily  and  ready  made.  But 
in  fact  all  ideas,  and  especially  our  ideas  of  rational  rela- 
tions, are  mental  functions  which  exist  only  in  and  through 
the  mental  activity  which  produces  them.  Hence,  to  trans- 


THE   THOUGHT-FACTOR..  181 

mit  ideas  or  experience  means  only  to  stimulate  the  mind 
to  perform  the  appropriate  function;  and  that  which  fits 
the  mind  to  perform  that  function  must  always  be  sought, 
not  in  experience,  but  in  the  mysterious  nature  of  the  mind 
itself. 

It  is  needless  to  pursue  the  view  further.  The  imagina- 
tions of  its  upholders  have  been  so  impressed  with  the 
grandeur  of  the  theory,  that  they  have  not  analyzed  it  to 
see  whether  it  would  do  what  it  promised.  In  addition  to 
the  influence  of  the  vast  periods  of  time  dealt  with,  and  the 
strange  terminology  employed,  the  use  of  the  general  term 
mind  has  been  very  effective.  This  has  been  "  developed  " 
all  the  way  up  from  the  feeble  stirrings  of  the  polyp's  ten- 
tacles to  the  mental  insight  of  the  philosopher.  Of  course 
there  is  no  mind,  but  a  series  of^  individual  minds ;  but  to 
have  remembered  this  would  have  seriously  embarrassed 
the  "  development."  We  conclude  that  evolution  has  no 
such  importance  for  psychology  as  its  friends  imagine.  In 
the  history  of  the  world,  there  is  a  successive  appearance 
of  mental  subjects  of  ascending  grade  ;  in  the  history  of  the 
individual,  there  is  a  successive  appearance  of  graded  men- 
tal functions.  Both  facts  are  interesting,  but  without  theo- 
retical significance.  The  attempt  to  identify  these  functions 
as  essentially  the  same  is  a  failure.  The  gathering  up  of 
these  mental  subjects  under  the  one  term  mind  is  simply 
an  echo  of  the  scholastic  realism.  Finally,  the  dispute  does 
not  concern  the  facts  of  development,  but  their  interpreta- 
tion. The  fact  is  a  successive  and  conditional  development 
of  mental  functions.  The  explanation  is  double.  Sensa- 
tionalism seeks  to  identify  these  functions  as  phases  of  the 
same  sensitive  process.  Rationalism  regards  them  as  es- 
sentially different,  so  that,  while  the  lower  may  condition 
the  unfolding  of  the  higher,  they  cannot  of  themselves  pass 
into  the  higher,  neither  in  an  individual  experience  nor  in 
a  race-experience. 


182 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  FEELINGS. 

THE  doctrine  of  the  feelings  is  the  most  confused  part 
of  psychology,  and  has  been  least  developed.  From  a  phil- 
osophical standpoint,  the  psychology  of  cognition  is  more 
interesting;  and  from  an  ethical  standpoint, the  psychology 
of  volition  is  more  important.  Further,  the  cognitive  ele- 
ments admit  of  much  more  exact  determination  than  those 
of  feeling.  The  former  are  fixed  and  universal ;  the  latter 
are  fleeting  and  individual.  The  former  admit  of  direct 
inspection  and  analysis  in  consciousness  ;  the  latter  can  be 
studied  only  indirectly,  for  the  reflective  consciousness  is 
fatal  to  their  spontaneity.  Nothing  is  so  real  as  a  feeling, 
nothing  is  so  hard  to  define.  In  objective  perception  we 
can  at  least  point  to  the  object,  and  be  fairly  sure  that 
others  have  the  same  thing  in  mind;  but  here  we  are 
confined  to  language,  and  the  terminology  of  feeling  par- 
takes of  the  vagueness  and  indefiniteness  of  the  feelings 
themselves. 

No  definition  of  feeling  can  be  given.  We  can  only  iden- 
tify and  name  it.  In  sensation  we  can  distinguish  the  per- 
ception of  a  quality  and  a  state  of  agreeable  or  disagreeable 
consciousness  which  attends  it.  This  state  of  conscious- 
ness is  a  physical  feeling.  The  perception  of  the  quality  is 
the  cognitive  side  of  the  sensation ;  the  feeling  is  the  ac- 
companying state  of  the  sensibility.  These  are  the  two  ele- 
ments which,  under  the  names  of  perception  and  sensation, 
Hamilton  declared  to  vary  inversely  each  as  the  other. 

Again,  in  our  perception  of  objects  we  can  distinguish 
the  simple  cognitive  grasp  of  the  fact  from  any  delight 


THE  FEELINGS.  183 

or  dislike  we  may  feel.  We  see  a  flower.  Perception 
simply  gives  it  as  it  is  in  color,  outline,  etc.,  and  does  not 
go  beyond  this  colorless  presentation  of  the  fact.  But 
along  with  this  perception  there  goes  a  sense  of  delight  in 
it.  This  is  something  added  to  the  cognition.  It  is  an 
aesthetic  feeling. 

Again,  we  conceive  an  act  both  in  its  motives  and  in  its 
consequences.  We  read,  perhaps,  of  some  great  deed  of 
heroism  or  of  self-denial.  Cognition  simply  reports  the 
fact ;  but  along  with  this  there  go  various  sentiments  of 
approval,  admiration,  etc.  These,  too,  are  not  cognitions, 
but  moral  feelings. 

We  might,  then,  define  feeling  as  that  state  of  conscious- 
ness which  consists  in  some  form  of  pleasure  or  pain,  like 
or  dislike,  satisfaction  or  dissatisfaction.  Of  course,  this 
is  not  a  definition,  but  only  an  identification.  What  the 
terms  mean  can  be  known  only  in  experience.  If  we  give 
pleasure  and  pain  the  widest  meaning,  so  as  to  include  all 
desirable  and  undesirable  states  of  consciousness,  we  may 
say  that  feeling,  in  opposition  to  knowing,  consists  in  some 
form  of  pleasurable,  or  painful,  consciousness.  This  exten- 
sion of  terms,  however,  is  more  likely  to  confuse  than 
otherwise.  The  feelings  of  esthetic  and  moral  satisfaction 
or  dissatisfaction,  the  simple  intellectual  feeling  of  sur- 
prise or  curiosity,  the  many  feelings  which  have  so  little 
affinity  with  pleasure  or  pain  as  to  seem  indifferent  to 
both,  —  none  of  these  are  well  described  as  pleasurable  or 
painful.  Let  us  say,  then,  as  a  final  definition,  that  feel- 
ing is  feeling,  just  as  knowing  is  knowing ;  and  it  does 
generally  consist  in  some  form  of  desirable  or  undesira- 
ble consciousness,  which  either  springs  directly  from  our 
physical  experience,  or  which  attends  our  mental  activities, 
or  which  arises  from  the  contemplation  of  our  objects  and 
ideas. 

Feeling  cannot  be  deduced.     Sensation,  considered   as 


184  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  simple  cognition  of  a  quality,  involves  no  feeling.  Per- 
ception, considered  as  a  cognition  of  objects  and  their  rela- 
tions, also  involves  no  feeling.  Reflection,  too,  considered 
as  a  form  of  internal  cognition,  likewise  implies  no  feeling. 
Action,  finally,  considered  as  the  execution  of  a  purpose, 
does  not  imply  feeling.  Actually,  all  of  these  processes 
are  accompanied  by  feeling,  not,  however,  as  an  analytic  im- 
plication, but  rather  as  an  incommensurable  addition.  A 
purely  cognitive  intelligence  might  have  perfect  knowledge 
of  things  and  their  relations  to  itself ;  it  might  know  that 
certain  things,  or  courses  of  action,  would  destroy  its  own 
existence  ;  it  might  even  know  that  its  own  existence  was 
about  to  be  destroyed ;  but  this  knowledge  alone  would 
imply  no  feeling.  Such  an  intellect  would  be  like  a  mirror; 
it  would  accurately  reflect  all  that  passed  before  it ;  but  it 
would  be  as  indifferent  as  the  mirror.  Even  the  blow  that 
should  shatter  it  would  be  reflected  with  the  same  passion- 
less indifference  as  all  things  else.  Nor  would  it  be  other- 
wise if  we  supposed  this  intelligence  to  be  connected  with 
.a  physical  organism.  It  would  know  the  physical  condi- 
tions of  its  existence,  and  might  know  that  those  conditions 
were  being  violated ;  but  neither  the  knowledge  nor  the  fact 
would  involve  any  feeling.  Just  as  no  state  of  the  organism 
involves  perception  as  an  analytic  implication,  so  no  state 
of  the  organism,  however  abnormal  it  may  be,  involves  feel- 
ing as  an  analytic  implication.  Indeed,  in  our  own  case, 
the  most  deadly  interference  with  the  health  of  the  organ- 
ism can  take  place  without  any  affection  of  the  sensibility. 
Thus  parts  of  the  brain  can  be  cut  away  without  pain  ;  and 
many  forms  of  disease  are  most  fatal  when  painless,  while 
some  are  even  attended  by  feelings  of  unusual  comfort. 
If  now  we  find  that  such  complete  sensitive  indifference  to 
physical  and  intellectual  states  in  general  does  not  exist, 
we  must  conclude  that  the  soul  is  not  merely  cognitive,  but 
also  sensitive,  that  it  not  only  knows,  but  enjoys  and  suf- 


THE  FEELINGS.  185 

fers,  and  that  this  feature  of  our  life  must  be  ascribed  to  a 
special  reaction  of  the  soul  against  the  incitements  of  its 
physical  and  cognitive  experience. 

Until  the  time  of  Kant  there  was  a  general  tendency  in 
psychology  to  regard  feeling  as  a  kind  of  knowing.  Des- 
cartes defined  pleasure  as  a  "  consciousness  of  some  one 
or  other  of  our  perfections."  Leibnitz  viewed  feeling  as  a 
confused  or  obscure  perception.  Wolff  called  pleasure  "  an 
intuitive  knowledge  of  perfection."  Locke  defined  the  feel- 
ings by  the  cognitive  circumstances  under  which  they  arise. 
Thus,  "  Sorrow  is  uneasiness  in  the  mind  upon  the  thought 
of  a  good  lost."  "  Despair  is  the  thought  of  the  unattain- 
ableness  of  any  good."  (Essay,  Book  II.  c.  20.)  The  last 
definition  is  a  good  example  of  his  tendency  to  identify  the 
feeling  with  the  conception.  Even  Kant,  who  strove  to 
distinguish  feeling  from  cognition,  defined  pleasure  as  the 
feeling  of  furtherance,  and  pain  as  the  feeling  of  hindrance, 
of  life.  From  the  physiological  side,  also,  there  have  been 
attempts  to  define  feeling  as  unconscious  perception  of 
harmony  or  discord  between  our  state  and  the .  normal  con- 
ditions of  well-being.  Opposed  to  this  attempt  to  reduce 
feeling  to  cognition  is  the  attempt  to  reduce  cognition  to 
feeling.  This  has  been  the  general  aim  of  the  sensation, 
alists ;  but  by  feeling  they  have  generally  understood  sensa- 
tions which  involve  both  cognitive  and  sensitive  elements ; 
so  that  the  deduction  turns  out  to  be  a  device  of  defini- 
tion. The  apparent  success  of  both  of  these  opposed 
attempts  is  due  to  the  fact  that  in  actual  mental  states 
both  elements  are  present ;  so  that,  whichever  we  resolve 
to  make  fundamental,  the  other  will  surely  creep  into  rec- 
ognition. This  subreption  will  easily  pass  for  deduction. 
Kant  first  emphasized  the  separateness  of  feeling  and  cog- 
nition. This,  however,  does  not  mean  that  feeling  and 
cognition  exist  in  absolute  separation  and  independence, 
but  only  that  neither  can  be  deduced  from  the  other. 


186  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  attempts  to  deduce  feeling  generally  confound  feel- 
ing with  its  conditions.  Thus  physical  feeling  is  said  to 
result  from  the  state  of  the  organism.  Allowing  this  to  be 
true,  we  have  only  a  condition,  not  the  thing.  As  there  is 
nothing  in  the  conception  of  nervous  action  which  implies 
that  a  sensation  of  light  must  result,  so  there  is  nothing 
in  any  physical  conception  which  implies  that  it  must  be 
accompanied  with  pleasure,  or  pain.  There  is  nothing  in 
the  conception  of  congestion,  or  atrophy,  or  a  burn,  which 
implies  that  it  must  be  felt  as  pain ;  and  if  pain  does  result, 
it  can  only  be  as  there  is  a  subject  capable  of  feeling,  and 
in  such  relation  to  the  organism  that  the  states  of  the  latter 
furnish  the  conditions  for  the  development  of  feeling.  The 
fact  that  pain  so  generally  results  from  an  abnormal  state 
of  the  body  must  not  mislead  us  into  thinking  that  the 
connection  is  one  of  logical  implication,  or  anything  more 
than  a  simple  fact.  Moreover,  we  have  seen  that  this  con- 
nection is  not  constant.  In  general,  an  abnormal  state  is 
indicated  by  pain  ;  but  sometimes  there  is  just  the  opposite 
result  of  unusual  eojnfort.  If  we  should  allow  that  pleas- 
ure actually  attends  all  action  which  tends  to  conserve  the 
individual  or  the  race,  while  pain  attends  action  of  opposite 
tendency,  we  should  still  have  no  deduction,  but  only  a  dis- 
covery of  a  biological  and  teleological  function  for  feeling 
which  actually  exists.  For  all  that  we  can  see,  the  same 
end  might  have  been  reached  in  other  ways. 

Herbart  has  sought  to  deduce  feeling  from  the  inter- 
action of  our  representations.  This  also  is  a  failure  in 
all  respects.  "We  have  seen  that  the  notion  of  interaction 
among  mental  states  is  an  unclear  one  at  best,  and,  in  most 
of  its  forms,  absurd.  But,  apart  from  these  difficulties,  the 
theory  has  the  following  short-comings  :  — 

1.  It  ignores  physical  feeling,  and  would  imply  that  nei- 
ther fire  nor  frost  could  hurt  until  a  store  of  ideas  had 
been  developed. 


THE  FEELINGS.  1ST 

2.  There  is  no  proof  possible  that  the  simple  dynamic 
relations  of  mental  states,  whereby  they  should  strengthen 
or  repress,  re-enforce  or  extinguish  one  another,  must  be 
experienced  as  pleasure  or  pain.     Beginning  with  purely 
cognitive  elements,  there  is  no  way  of  transition  to  sensitive 
elements. 

3.  If  such  transition,  however,  is  made,  it  can  only  be  as 
the  soul  is  more  than  a  purely  cognitive  being.     It  must 
have  a  complex  nature,  such  that  the  relations  of  its  ideas 
furnish  the  incitement  to  a  special  form  of  sensitive  reac- 
tion.    Loss  is  not  sorrow  ;  repression  is  not  pain ;  failure 
is  not  disappointment ;  success  is  not  happiness ;  facility 
is  not  pleasure.     These   subjects   and  predicates  are  not 
analytically  connected  ;  and  no  reflection  upon  the  defini- 
tion of  the  former  will  reveal  the  latter. 

The  claim  that  feeling  is  a  perception  of  the  significance 
that  a  given  state  has  for  our  well-being,  is  of  the  same 
sort ;  or  rather  it  confounds  feeling  with  its  conditions  on 
the  one  hand,  and  with  perception  on  the  other.  Without, 
doubt,  feeling  is  often  conditioned  by  the  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement of  our  state  with  the  conditions  of  our  normal 
existence,  but  we  cannot  identify  it  either  with  the  agree- 
ment or  disagreement,  or  with  a  perception  of  the  same. 
Much  of  our  feeling  toward  objects  also  arises  from  some 
conception  of  their  significance  for  our  well-being  ;  but  this 
conception  again  is  only  the  ground  of  the  feeling,  and  not 
the  feeling  itself.  A  toothache  arises  from  an  abnormal 
state  of  the  nerve  ;  but  for  all  that,  it  is  neither  that  state 
nor  a  perception  of  that  state  ;  it  is  purely  its  own  wretched 
self.  We  conclude,  then,  that  while  feeling  attends  our 
physical  and  mental  functions,  and  springs  also  from  the 
contemplation  of  objects  and  relations,  there  is  no  way  of 
deducing  it  from  them. 

Feelings  have  two  sources,  the  state  of  the  organism  and 
the  relations  of  our  mental  states  and  ideas.    Feelings  from 


188  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  former  source  we  call  the  physical  feelings ;  for  those 
having  a  mental  source,  there  is  no  comprehensive  term. 
They  are  sometimes  called  the  emotions;  but  in  popular 
language  the  emotions  are  commonly  viewed  as  passive 
feelings  in  distinction  from  the  desires.  In  actual  experi 
ence  many  forms  of  feeling  exist  which*  have  both  a  physi- 
cal and  a  mental  root.  Indeed,  the  physical  state  enters  as 
an  important  factor  into  many  of  our  higher  emotions. 
The  most  striking  example  is  that  of  parental  and  conjugal 
affection.  Here  the  physical  and  spiritual  factors  of  our 
nature  work  together.  The  physical  elements  furnish  the 
occasion  and  the  stimulus  for  the  development  of  spiritual 
sentiments;  and  these  in  turn  idealize  physical  relations 
and  prevent  them  from  ever  sinking  to  the  level  of  their 
purely  physical  significance.  Feelings  of  this  class  cannot 
be  understood  from  either  the  physical  or  the  mental  side 
alone ;  but  only  from  the  co-working  of  both.  The  ana- 
logues of  these  sentiments  in  the  brute  world  seem  to 
have  only  a  physical  root ;  as  they  do  not  last  beyond  the 
physical  conditions  which  occasioned  them. 

The  physical  feelings  arise  from  some  physical  state  or 
function.  The  special  feelings  are  connected  with  some 
special  part,  either  some  of  the  organs  of  special  sense  or 
some  specific  part  of  the  organism.  The  organs  of  the 
special  senses  vary  very  greatly  in  their  relation  to  feeling. 
Those  which  have  the  function  of  giving  us  a  knowledge  of 
the  outer  world  are  almost  sensitively  indifferent  in  their 
normal  activity.  The  eye  and  ear  have  only  the  faintest 
functional  feelings,,  except  when  strained,  wearied,  or  dis- 
eased. The  other  special  senses  are  more  pronounced  in 
this  respect ;  and  the  organic  sensations  are  pure  feelings. 
As  the  feeling  increases,  the  cognitive  element  diminishes ; 
and  where  both  are  present,  an  excess  of  feeling  absorbs 
attention  and  makes  it  hard  to  concentrate  thought.  When 
the  feeling  is  not  located,"  we  have  a  general  sense  of  com- 


THE  FEELINGS.  189 

fort  or  discomfort,  of  strength  or  weakness,  of  health  or 
disease,  etc. 

The  physical  feelings  may  be  roughly  distinguished  as 
constitutional  and  contingent.  The  former  are  such  feel- 
ings as  attend  those  physical  appetites  and  cravings  which 
arise  from  the  nature  of  the  organism  itself.  Hunger  and 
thirst,  the  need  of  exercise  and  of  rest,  are  examples. 
Other  physical  feelings  do  not  spring  from  the  nature  and 
law  of  the  organism,  but  depend  upon  some  contingent 
state,  either  arising  within  the  organism  or  resulting  from 
external  action  upon  it. 

The  teleological  character  of  the  physical  feelings  has 
already  been  sufficiently  indicated.  They  are  almost  entirely 
related  to  the  use  and  well-being  of  the  organism,  or  to  the 
arousing  and  directing  of  our  activity.  Taken  together, 
they  constitute  a  highly  complex  series  both  of  incite- 
ments and  of  repressions  of  activity ;  and  this  activity  is 
in  the  main  adapted  to  preserve  either  the  individual  or 
the  race.  This  rule,  however,  is  subject  to  many  excep- 
tions. Physical  appetites,  especially  acquired  ones,  often 
incite  to  injurious  and  destructive  forms  of  activity.  Even 
hunger  and  thirst  are  seldom  accurately  adjusted  to  the 
demands  of  perfect  health. 

In  speaking  of  the  form  of  the  nervous  process  which 
.underlies  sensation  in  general,  we  saw  that  nothing  is 
known  about  it.  That  which  underlies  physical  feeling 
is  equally  mysterious.  At  first  it  would  seem  that  the 
process  might  well  be  one  and  the  same,  and  that  the 
perception  of  the  quality  and  the  having  of  the  feeling  are 
double  only  in  consciousness.  In  that  case  we  should  have 
a  complex  reaction  against  the  single  process.  Neverthe- 
less, the  facts  of  analgia  show  that  the  perception  can  take 
place  without  the  feeling.  In  the  use  of  anesthetics,  it  is 
often  found  that  the  perceptive  function  remains  after  the 
sensibility  to  pain  has  vanished.  "Even  the  nerves  of  touch 


190  PSYCHOLOGY. 

in  the  parts  affected  may  remain  active  after  all  pain  has 
ceased.  These  facts  show  either  that  there  is  a  special 
nervous  function  for  the  production  of  feeling,  or  that  feel- 
ing is  connected  only  with  a  special  intensity  of  the  gen- 
eral nervous  function  upon  which  perception  rests.  The 
distinction  is  further  suggested  by  the  changeability  of  our 
likes  and  dislikes  with  reference  to  the  same  object.  Ac- 
quired tastes,  like  those  for  tobacco  and  olives,  are  striking 
examples.  In  such  cases  the  external  stimulus  and  the 
perceptive  element  are  constant,  but  the  sensitive  factor 
varies  from  one  extreme  to  its  opposite.  Nor  can  we  do 
much  with  the  notion  of  intensity  as  the  ground  of  feeling. 
If  we  find  the  ground  of  pain  in  too  great  intensity  of 
nervous  action,  we  ought  to  find  the  ground  of  pleasure  in 
the  opposite  direction,  and  ought  further  to  find  a  point  of 
indifference  between  them.  Generally,  it  would  seem  that 
the  ground  of  both  lies  in  the  form  of  the  nervous  activity 
rather  than  in  its  quantity.  The  entire  subject  is  in  pro- 
found obscurity;  but  we  need  to  guard  ourselves  against 
applying  terms  with  psychological  implications  to  the 
nerves,  and  then  fancying  that  we  have  deduced  the  psycho- 
logical idea  from  our  physiology,  and  not  from  the  terms 
employed.  Thus,  when  we  have  referred  pain  to  nervous 
exhaustion,  the  term  exhaustion  makes  it  easy  to  transfer » 
our  feelings  to  our  nerves,  and  then  we  deduce  our  feelings 
from  the  nervous  states  with  the  greatest  ease.  We  need 
equally  to  guard  against  the  fancy  that  the  nervous  process 
which  conditions  the  feeling  in  any  way  explains  it.  The 
feelings  are  not  in  the  nerves,  and  are  physical  only  in  the 
sense  of  having  a  physical  incitement. 

The  feelings  which  have  a  purely  mental  "source  are 
much  more  numerous  and  important  These  do  not  arise 
from  the  organic  functions,  but  from  some  conception  or 
mental  state.  Thus,  the  aversion  which  attends  the  vision 
of  a  serpent,  or  of  blood,"  or  of  any  disgusting  object,  does 


THE   FEELINGS.  191 

not  arise  from  any  pernicious  effect  upon  the  nerves,  but 
from  the  significance  which  we  attribute  to  the  objects. 
The  conception  is  necessary  to  the  feeling.  Again,  the 
feelings  of  mirth,  contempt,  etc.,  arise  from  the  relations  of 
ideas,  and  would  disappear  with  the  ideas.  The  grossest 
insults  may  be  heaped  upon  us  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
without  disturbing  our  equanimity.  They  must  pass  into 
the  idea  before  they  can  awaken  feeling. 

No  satisfactory  classification  of  these  feelings  exists, 
and  any  detailed  description  would  be  superfluous.  In- 
stead, then,  of  seeking  a  new  classification,  we  shall  do 
better  to  confine  ourselves  to  a  few  general  points  of  view. 
In  any  case,  feelings  arc  understood  in  themselves,  and 
not  in  their  classification. 

The  physical  organism  has  conditions  of  existence,  which 
may  be  furthered  or  interfered  with  from  without.  Such 
furtherance  or  interference  results  in  pleasure  or  pain. 
Again,  there  is  an  immanent  law  of  development  in  the 
organism,  whereby  its  unfolding  is  determined.  Accord- 
ing as  this  inner  tendency  is  helped  or  hindered,  we  experi- 
ence pleasure  or  pain.  A  widely  received  doctrine  of  the 
mental  feelings  attempts  to  explain  them  by  applying  this 
analogy  to  the  mental  organism.  The  mind,  too,  has  condi- 
tions of  well-being,  and  an  immanent  law  of  development ; 
and  whatever  meets  these  conditions  or  obeys  this  law 
gives  rise  to  pleasurable  experiences,  while  anything  of 
opposite  character  gives  rise  to  opposite  experiences.  A 
free  and  facile  performance  of  mental  functions  results  in 
feelings  of  pleasure  or  satisfaction,  while  opposite  feelings 
attend  repression  and  failure.  As  the  body  by  its  constitu- 
tion demands*  an  alternation  of  rest  and  action  as  a  condi- 
tion of  its  well-being,  so  the  mind  makes  the  same  demand 
as  a  condition  of  its  well-being.  When  the  waking  mind 
is  inactive,  or  rather  empty,  there  result  feelings  of  tedium 
and  ennui,  which  may  rise  to  positive  distress.  The  same 


192  PSYCHOLOGY. 

mental  constitution  calls  for  a  certain  measure  of  variety 
and  uniformity  of  experience  as  a  condition-  of  pleasure. 
Monotony  becomes  wearisome;  too  rapid  change  is  confus- 
ing and  painful.  Within  certain  limits  novelty  is  pleasing, 
and  within  certain  limits  the  familiar  is  pleasing. 

This  fact  is  the  basis  of  the  claim  of  Aristotle,  reproduced 
also  by  Hamilton,  that  any  unimpeded  exercise  of  energy 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  faculty  in  question  is  pleasur- 
able, while  the  opposite  is  painful.  Confused  and  obscure 
ideas  are  disagreeable ;  clear  and  distinct  ideas  are  agree- 
able. The  reduction  of  unrelated  phenomena  to  rational 
order  is  pleasing ;  the  inability  so  to  reduce  them  is  dis- 
pleasing. The  discovery  of  unity  in  the  manifold,  or  of  har- 
mony in  the  discordant,  is  pleasing;  the  failure  to  find 
these  elements  is  displeasing.  In  like  manner,  success  or 
failure,  furtherance  or  hindrance,  in  our  activities,  becomes 
a  ground  of  feeling.  Self-assertion  and  self-realization  are 
the  deepest  necessities  of  life.  Whatever  furthers  them 
produces  complacency ;  whatever  hinders  them  gives  rise 
to  feelings  varying  from  slight  vexation  to  intense  indig- 
nation. In  all  of  these  cases  our  tendencies  are  furthered 
or  thwarted,  and  we  feel  pleasure  or  pain  accordingly. 

In  this  conception  mental  feelings,  like  the  physical,  are 
functional ;  that  is,  they  arise  from  the  performance  of 
mental  functions,  and  are  pleasing  or  not  as  the  form  of 
activity  agrees  or  disagrees  with  the  nature  of  the  faculty 
in  question.  There  are  many  feelings  of  this  kind.  They 
spring  directly  either  from  our  constitution  or  from  the 
form  of  the  mental  function.  Curiosity  is  a  case  of  the 
former ;  the  excitement  of  gambling  is  a  case  of  the  lat- 
ter. There  is  an  intenser  feeling  of  life  connected  with 
emotional  excitement,  which  is  desired  for  its  own  sake  ; 
and  the  desire  for  it  may  become  a  decided  craving.  Much 
of  our  interest  in  games  of  chance,  in  novel-reading,  in  the 
tragic  drama,  and  even  in  some  phases  of  religious  experi- 
ence,  has  its  root  here. 


THE  FEELINGS.  193 

But  when  this  conception  of  feeling  as  functional  is 
made  universal,  it  becomes  formal  and  empty.  It  is  thus 
formal  when  applied  to  the  large  class  of  feelings  which 
depend,  not  on  the  form  of  the  mental  function,  but  on  the 
nature  of  the  mental  object.  This  is  the  case  with  all 
esthetic  emotion  where  the  feeling  is  due  to  some  quality 
of  the  object,  and  where,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  there  is  no 
furtherance  or  hindrance  of  mental  functions.  Even  our 
delight  in  knowing  depends  less  on  satisfying  our  constitu- 
tional curiosity  than  on  finding  something  worth  knowing. 
Knowing,  simply  as  a  form  of  mental  activity,  may  be  exer- 
cised upon  the  most  insignificant  objects.  It  is  the  nature 
of  the  thing  known  which  is  the  great  source  of  feeling. 
If,  then,  we  insist  that  feeling  is  due  to  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement with  the  laws  of  the  mind,  we  must  either  make 
those  laws  include  the  object,  or  we  must  admit  that  often 
the  only  warrant  for  affirming  an  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment is  our  theory  that  feeling  must  be  explained  in  that 
way.  In  either  case  the  view  becomes  formal  and  barren. 

Without  inquiring  further  why  we  feel,  we  pass  to  con- 
sider several  important  classes  of  feeling.  These  are  (1.)  the 
ego  feelings,  (2.)  the  social  feelings,  and  (3.)  the  impersonal, 
or  disinterested,  feelings.  The  last  class  consists  of  the 
aesthetic  feelings,  the  ethical  feelings,  and  the  religious 
feelings.  Perhaps  it  Avould  be  better  to  regard  these  as 
three  classes  of  elements  which  enter  into  our  sensitive 
life,  as  in  actual  experience  these  elements  often  enter 
into  one  and  the  same  emotional  state,  and  seldom  occur 
in  isolation.  They  are  proposed  simply  as  points  of  view 
from  which  the  feelings  may  be  advantageously  studied. 

In  one  sense  all  feelings  which  relate  to  the  personal 
interests  of  the  individual  are  ego  feelings.  Personal  pains 
and  pleasures,  dislikes  and  aversions,  exist  only  for  their 
subject.  But  we  prefer  to  reserve  the  title  of  ego  feelings 
for  another  class,  which  depends  not  upon  consciousness, 

13 


194  PSYCHOLOGY. 

but  upon  self-consciousness.  These  feelings  are  not  elements 
of  passive  pain  or  pleasure,  but  exist  only  through  their  re- 
lation to  our  self-esteem  aad  desire  for  self-assertion.  The 
ego  is  at  once  their  subject  and  their  object.  Hence  they 
are  pre-eminently  the  ego  feelings. 

It  is  this  relation  to  self  which  chiefly  determines  the 
value  of  an  experience  in  the  developed  mental  life.  Both 
pleasures  and  pains,  except  purely  physical  ones,  depend 
to  a  great  extent  on  being  connected  with  self  as  their 
subject.  Thus,  an  athletic  feat,  a  long  tramp,  a  perilous 
climb  up  a  mountain,  are  never  estimated  by  the  passive 
sensations  attending  them,  but  by  the  exaltation  of  self- 
feeling  which  results.  We  have  a  sense  of  power  and 
efficiency,  and  delight  in  the  deed  as  our  own.  Most  of 
our  plans  and  aims  also  have  their  value,  not  in  their  in- 
herent power  to  please  us,  but  in  the  fact  that  they  are 
ours.  Few  of  our  experiences  have  value  in  themselves, 
as  passive  gratifications  of  our  sensibility ;  their  value  lies 
rather  in  the  element  of  personality  which  we  have  put  into 
them.  It  is  oversight  of  this  fact  which  led  to  the  strange 
proposal  of  Bentham  to  form  an  arithmetic  of  pleasures 
and  pains,  whereby  the  value  of  any  experience  could  be  de- 
termined. The  sum  of  the  pleasures  minus  the  sum  of  the 
pains  equals  the  value  of  the  experience ;  where  pleasure 
and  pain  are  supposed  to  be  passive  affections  of  the  sensi- 
bility. This  arithmetic  vanishes  when  all  significant  values 
in  experience  are  seen  to  be  constituted  by  their  relation 
to  self  in  self-consciousness.  The  same  oversight  under- 
lies the  shrewd  surmise  that  probably  a  pig's  lot  is  happier 
than  that  of  a  man.  If  there  were  nothing  but  passive 
gratifications  of  sense  in  life,  this  might  well  be  the  case. 
To  increase  knowledge  may  well  increase  sorrow,  and  the 
freeman  may  have  a  harder  lot  than  the  slave.  But  with 
men  the  comfort  of  ignorance,  or  slavery,  or  piggishness, 
is  not  valued  in  comparison  with  the  exaltation  of  self- 


THE  FEELINGS.  195 

feeling  and  self-respect  which  comes  from  knowledge  and 
freedom  and  manhood.  Indeed,  the  distinction  between 
passive  and  active  pleasures  is  so  marked,  that  it  has  often 
been  a  dogma  in  ethics  that  the  former  are  valueless  and 
unworthy  of  desire  and  effort.  In  the  former,  the  self  is 
passive ;  in  the  latter,  it  is  active  and  self-determining. 
The  passive  pleasures  are  seldom  without  a  suggestion  of 
the  animal. 

The  same  reference  to  self  underlies  a  great  variety  of 
feelings  of  a  less  exalted  kind.  Apart  from  this  self- 
consciousness,  the  pains  of  poverty,  of  social  slights,  etc. 
would  be  a  vanishing  quantity.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
satisfactions  of  pride,  vanity,  and  ambition  would  be  nothing 
without  the  same  reference.  To  secure  the  exaltation  of 
self-feeling  we  are  ready  to  submit  to  any  passive  discom- 
fort or  to  make  any  sacrifice.  Failure  in  this  effort  is  the 
world's  great  source  of  grief  and  heart-burning.  It  is  this 
conception  of  self-consciousness  which  has  led  to  the  fa- 
miliar onslaughts  upon  it  as  the  sum,  or  at  least  the  root, 
of  all  evil. 

Since  we  can  interpret  others'  experience  only  by  our 
own,  a  broad  and  intense  ego-life  is  the  condition  of  any 
full  and  deep  social  life.  It  is  only  in  our  own  conscious- 
ness that  the  meaning  and  value  of  life  and  its  experiences 
can  be  revealed ;  and  without  the  knowledge  of  these  there 
can  be  no  sympathy  for  others  and  no  understanding  of 
them.  Selfishness  does  not  consist  in  valuing  ourselves, 
but  in  ignoring  the  equal  claims  and  rights  of  others. 

An  equally  great  variety  of  feelings  arises  from  our  social 
nature.  Here  belong  the  social  impulses  and  sentiments, 
in  all  their  diversified  forms.  Psychological  doctrinaires 
have  displayed  great  ingenuity  in  deducing  the  social  ele- 
ments of  our  nature  from  selfish  necessities.  An  artificial 
and  fictitious  man  has  been  constructed  at  great  cost  of 
time  and  labor.  This  being  has  been  endowed  with  only 


196  PSYCHOLOGY." 

egoistic  impulses,  and  then  his  creators  have  proceeded 
to  turn  him  into  a  social  and  benevolent  person.  Being 
endowed  with  a  desire  for  approbation,  he  seeks  society 
that  he  may  win  approval.  Having  also  a  penetrating  in- 
tellect, lie  soon  sees  that  others  are  necessary  to  him  in 
many  ways;  and  his  wise  selfishness  takes  on  the  forms 
of  benevolence.  When  this  point  is  reached,  the  power 
and  penetration  of  the  psychological  analysis  are  praised, 
and  altruism  is  deduced  from  egoism.  Unfortunately  for 
this  view,  the  social  impulses  manifest  themselves  so  long 
before  there  is  any  hint  of  the  profound  insight  presupposed, 
that  it  would  hardly  seem  less  absurd  to  claim  that  the 
cattle,  or  the  ants,  became  gregarious  in  the  same  way. 
However  possible  it  may  be  to  reason  out  the  selfish  wis- 
dom of  social  action,  it  is  sure  that  the  race  did  not  develop 
the  social  impulses  in  that  way.  Man  is  naturally  selfish, 
and  naturally  social  and  sympathetic.  There  is  provision 
in  our  nature  both  for  selfishness  and  for  society  and  mu- 
tual help.  The  whim  that  the  natural  state  of  man  is  the 
war  of  all  against  all  was  the  conclusion  of  a  theory  rather 
than  the  expression  of  experience.  Man  seeks  man  and 
delights  in  man  far  more  than  man  wars  upon  man.  This 
primal  man  who  reasoned  himself  into  society  is  a  near 
relative  of  the  men  who  emerged  from  inhuman  isolation 
and  made  the  social  contract  which  figured  so  largely  in 
the  political  philosophy  of  the  last  century.  The  real  func- 
tion of  the  various  considerations  of  interest  and  mutual 
advantage  which  are  appealed  to,  has  not  been  to  develop 
the  social  sentiments,  but  to  extend  their  application  beyond 
narrow  family  or  tribal  limits. 

The  provision  for  social  and  unselfish  existence  is  seen, 
first  of  all,  in  the  nature  of  all  human  love,  whether  con- 
jugal, parental,  filial,  or  the  love  of  friendship.  No  one 
who  has  felt  these  emotions  will  ever  view  them  as  selfish  ; 
and  no  one  else  has  a  voice.  It  is  also  seen  in  the  law  of 


THE  FEELINGS.  197 

sympathy.  Unless  hindered  by  some  disturbing  or  paralyz- 
ing conception,  sympathy  is  natural  and  necessary.  The 
provision  for  social  life  is  apparent  also  in  the  faculty  of 
language.  The  great  function  of  language  is  exchange  of 
thought,  and  would  have  no  meaning  in  a  solitary  exist- 
ence. And  thought  itself  is  developed  and  continued  only 
in  and  through  society.  Here  the  individual  has  his  life ; 
and  here  learning  and  science  and  knowledge  have  their 
abiding  source  and  seat.  It  used  to  be  a  favorite  problem 
with  the  speculators  of  the  last  century  to  know  what  a 
human  being  would  come  to  if  brought  up  in  isolation. 
Plainly  he  would  never  become  a-  human  being  at  all. 

The  field  of  social  relations  is  the  sole  field  of  the  benevo- 
lent and  malevolent  impulses ;  it  is,  too,  the  great  field  of 
the  ego  feelings.  Indeed  human  life  in  general  exists  only 
in  society.  Of  course  there  can  be  no  society  without  the 
individual  as  its  unit ;  but  the  individual  comes  to  himself 
only  in  society.  On  the  one  hand,  we  can  understand  others 
only  by  assimilating  their  life  to  ours  ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  our  own  life  is  dormant  until  it  is  called  out  by  the 
universal  social  stimulus.  Opposite  errors  are  traditional 
here.  Some,  forgetting  that  life  must  be  experienced  in 
ourselves  before  it  can  be  found  anywhere  else,  would 
make  society  the  sufficient  source  of  all  individual  experi- 
ence ;  while  others  set  the  individual  apart  in  a  false  self- 
sufficiency,  and  forget  that  without  the  social  stimulus  the 
mind  of  the  individual  would  never  unfold. 

The  ego  feelings  have  already  been  referred  to  as  con- 
stituted by  their  relation  to  self ;  but  they  demand  society 
for  their  development.  Obnoxious  forms  of  egoism  are 
made  possible  only  by  a  comparison  with  others  resulting 
in  an  assumption  of  superiority  and  an  undue  exaltation  of 
self-esteem.  Indeed,  complete  satisfaction  is  never  reached 
until  this  superiority  is  in  some  way  recognized  by  others. 
The  self-worshipper  takes  little  pleasure  in  subjective  values 


198  PSYCHOLOGY. 

so  long  as  they  are  unknown  or  unallowed  by  the  rest  of 
the  world.  There  must  be  at  least  a  prospective  recogni- 
tion ;  and  no  Mordecai  can  be  tolerated  at  the  gate.  Pride 
or  vanity  is  never  content  to  be.  It  is  never  sufficient  to 
itself,  but  lives  on  others'  recognition.  Thus  it  carries  in 
itself  its  own  contradiction  and  torment. 

The  aesthetic  feelings  are  another  form  of  feeling  which 
has  a  mental  source.  They  represent  a  satisfaction  or  dis- 
satisfaction with  our  objects  apart  from  their  relation  to  our 
personal  interests.  Our  feelings  toward  some  things  arise 
directly  from  our  conception  of  their  utility  or  inutility  for 
us ;  other  feelings  are  independent  of  this  personal  refer- 
ence, and  seem  to  depend  upon  an  objective  quality  of  the 
objects  themselves.  These  are  the  aesthetic  feelings ;  and 
in  this  sense  they  are  impersonal  and  objective,  or  rather 
disinterested.  The  feelings  previously  described  represent 
only  a  state  of  our  sensibility,  and  are  not  objectified  as 
qualities  of  their  objects.  In  the  aesthetic  feelings  the  mind 
is  contemplative  and  disinterested.  We  do  not  need  the 
object';  we  do  not  prize  it  for  its  utility ;  we  are  pleased  to 
find  that  the  object  exists. 

The  aesthetic  feelings  lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  aesthetic 
judgments ;  for  these  at  bottom  only  express  a  feeling  of 
sesthetic  satisfaction  or  dissatisfaction  with  our  objects.  A 
scruple  is  sometimes  raised  as  to  the  possibility  of  a  judg- 
ment founded  on  feeling ;  as  feeling  is  said  to  be  subjective 
and  particular,  while  the  judgment  must  be  objective  and 
universal.  But  there  is  no  reason  why  there  may  not  be 
universal  elements  in  the  sensibility  as  well  as  in  the 
reason.  Again,  many  of  our  judgments  do  but  express 
in  logical  form  a  content  which  can  be  realized  only  in  the 
sensibility.  All  judgments  of  sensation  are  of  this  kind. 
They  have  the  forms  of  logic,  but  they  can  be  understood 
only  in  sensible  experience.  And  ultimately  our  aesthetic 
judgments  rest  upon  a  fact  of  the  same  sort,  an  immediate 


THE  FEELINGS.  199 

feeling  of  delight  or  aversion.  Of  course,  this  feeling  must 
be  wrought  out  into  systematic  form  before  a  science  of 
aesthetics  can  be  reached;  but  without  this  feeling,  the 
science  would  have  no  contents  whatever.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  better  to  say  that  both  intellect  and  sensibility 
are  pure  abstractions ;  the  reality  being  the  rational  and 
sensitive  soul.  If  this  soul  were  only  sensitive,  it  would 
never  reach  an  aesthetic  judgment ;  but  if  it  were  not  sensi- 
tive, such  judgment  would  be  equally  impossible. 

^Esthetic  feeling  appears  in  various  forms :  — 

The  simplest  form  is  in  connection  with  sensation  and 
movement.  Colors,  tones,  odors,  and  rhythmic  movement 
have  an  aesthetic  value,  both  in  themselves  and  still  more  in 
their  combination,  as  in  painting,  music,  rhythm,  and  the 
dance.  It  has  been  much  questioned  whether  simple  sensa- 
tions have  any  assthetic  significance,  or  whether  they  are 
only  organically  agreeable  or  disagreeable.  It  is  indeed 
difficult  in  these  cases  to  separate  the  aesthetic  from  the  sim- 
ply agreeable  ;  but  that  they  have  an  aesthetic  value  is  clear 
from  the  fact  that  in  higher  aesthetic  effects  they  constitute 
a  necessary  part  of  the  whole.  Compare  the  colorless  en- 
graving with  the  painting ;  or  the  same  music  on  different 
instruments.  At  the  same  time,  the  aesthetic  value  of 
tones  and  colors  lies  chiefly  in  their  combination  and  sym- 
bolism. Melody  and  harmony  please,  not  only  by  virtue 
of  the  separate  tones,  but  also  and  mainly  through  the 
form  of  their  combination.  A  piece  of  music  played  back- 
wards, or  even  in  different  time,  would  give  the  same 
sounds,  but  not  the  music. 

^Esthetic  feeling  further  appears  in  connection  with  form 
.and  outline,  .especially  as  developed  in  drawing,  architec- 
ture, and  sculpture.  Here  we  demand  regularity,  symme- 
try, and  proportion,  combined  into  an  harmonious  whole. 

Still  another  phase  arises  from  the  perception  of  certain 
relations  of  ideas.  Here  belong  the  feelings  of  the  absurd. 


200 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  ridiculous,  the  comical,  the  witty,  and  of  fitness  and 
unfitness  in  general.  Here  the  effect  is  entirely  due  to 
the  relation,  and  not  to  the  ideas  themselves. 

^Esthetic  feeling  arises  at  times  from  the  form,  at  others 
from  the  content,  of  our  ideas.  Symmetry,  proportion, 
harmony,  completeness,  are  examples  of  the  former  class. 
Truth,  goodness,  nobility,  baseness,  and  vastness  are  exam- 
ples of  the  latter.  In  this  class  aesthetics  rises  into  the 
realm  of  ethics  and  religion. 

^Esthetic  feeling  is  especially  aroused  by  whatever  ex- 
presses or  symbolizes  the  life,  the  aspirations,  the  solemn 
forebodings,  the  deep  experiences  of  the  soul.  This  is  the 
source  of  our  highest  interest  in  the  tragic  drama.  The 
aesthetic  value  of  nature,  also,  lies  chiefly  in  its  deep  sym- 
bolism of  thought  and  life.  Poetry  in  general  is  little  more 
than  a  working  out  of  this  symbolism.  Music  also  aims  to 
do  the  same  thing.  The  mind  is  pleased  with  whatever  ex- 
presses thought  or  purpose,  or  with  whatever  gives  form  to 
its  own  inner  life.  This  is  the  meaning  of  Plato's  claim 
that  the  mind  alone  is  beautiful ;  it  also  explains  the  claim 
often  made,  that  the  beautiful  must  be  an  adequate  realiza- 
tion of  an  "idea."  Even  that  which  in  itself  is  disagreeable 
or  ugly  may  have  profound  significance  because  of  its  power 
to  symbolize.  Darkness  and  storm,  the  restless  ocean  and 
the  desert  waste,  are  illustrations.  A  broken  column  in  a 
building  is  utterly  ugly ;  in  a  cemetery,  it  may  have  a  sad 
significance. 

It  is  at  this  point  that  we  find  the  significance  of  asso- 
ciation for  aesthetics.  Association  itself  does  not  produce 
aesthetic  ideas,  but  it  largely  conditions  their  application ; 
for  example,  the  human  form  as  a  simple  figure  in  space 
could  not  lay  claim  to  striking  beauty.  It  acquires  its 
chief  aesthetic  significance  from  connection  with  the  life 
within.  In  itself  it  has  beauty  of  symmetry,  proportion, 
adaptation  of  parts  and  functions ;  but  this  is  insignificant 


THE  FEELINGS.  201 

compared  with  its  symbolic  value.  The  same  is  true  of 
music.  A  melody  in  itself  insignificant  may  affect  us 
powerfully  from  being  a  national  air,  or  connected  with 
our  past  history,  or  associated  with  certain  words  and 


The  complexity  of  the  sources  of  aesthetic  feeling  make's 
the  aesthetic  problem  correspondingly  complex.  It  also  ex- 
plains in  some  measure  the  diversity  of  aesthetic  judgments. 
We  find  simply  sensuous  elements,  purely  intellectual  rela- 
tions, the  opposition  of  form  and  meaning,  and  a  symbol- 
izing function  entering  into  aesthetic  experience  ;  and  any 
one  of  these  may  be  emphasized  to  the  neglect  or  exclusion 
of  the  rest.  Hence,  one-sided  and  often  mistaken  aesthetic 
judgments.  In  music,  the  intellectual  and  symbolic  ele- 
ments may  be  exaggerated,  and  the  sensuous  element  ne- 
glected. The  result  is  music  highly  intellectual  and  full  of 
meaning,  but  needing  an  interpreter,  and  unable  to  please. 
Or,  on  the  other  hand,  the  sensuous  element  may  be  made 
supreme  ;  and  the  outcome  is  a  tiresome  and  cloying  sweet- 
ness. So  in  art  and  literature,  the  form  may  be  exalted 
above  the  content,  or  the  content  above  the  form  ;  and  in 
both  cases  the  result  is  failure.  A  brilliant  treatment  is 
offered  as  the  justification  of  an  ignoble  or  worthless  sub- 
ject ;  and  a  good  meaning  is  made  to  apologize  for  stupid- 
ity and  awkwardness.  For  the  highest  aesthetic  effect  there 
must  be  a  satisfaction  of  the  entire  nature.  A  worthy 
matter  must  be  married  to  a  fitting  form.  Diversity  of 
aesthetic  judgment  is  further  due  to  the  fact  that  the  judg- 
ment is  often  not  properly  aesthetic.  We  may  be  pleased, 
not  with  the  thing,  but  with  the  treatment,  the  technical 
skill,  and  very  often  with  our  own  ability  to  detect  that 
skill.  Much  'apparent  delight  in  music  and  painting  is  of 
this  sort,  and  is  really  only  a  reflex  of  vanity. 

Why  do  objects  please  us  aesthetically  ?  Various  answers 
are  given,  but  no  one  is  adequate  to  a  complete  solution  of 


202 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  question.  Physiology  offers  to  explain  the  elementary 
aesthetic  feelings  as  the  result  of  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment with  the  conditions  of  nervous  action  and  physical 
well-being  in  general.  Others  have  found  the  one  principle 
of -beauty  in  the  perception  of  unity  in  variety,  or  harmony 
in  the  manifold.  The  further  claim  is  made,  that  aesthetic 
feeling  is  built  up  out  of  agreeable  or  disagreeable  personal 
feelings,  which  by  association  are  connected  with  their 
causes.  Thereafter  the  latter  are  viewed  as  beautiful  or 
ugly.  This  is  the  utilitarian  conception. 

Physiological  aesthetics  has  the  full  indorsement  of  the 
Zeitgeist,  but  is  not  so  successful  with  analysis.  Thus, 
discord  is  ugly,  concord  is  pleasing ;  and  the  explanation 
offered  is,  that  discordant  sounds  in  some  way  transgress 
the  conditions  of  nervous  action,  while  harmonious  sounds 
agree  with  them.  Of  course,  if  this  were  so,  we  should 
have  no  explanation  of  the  mental  effect ;  for  we  have  seen 
that  no  nervous  state  explains  any  mental  state  as  an  an- 
alytical implication  of  itself;  but  allowing  that  nervous 
states  may  give  rise  to  mental  states,  we  may  seek  the 
ground  of  the  aesthetic  effect  in  the  nerves.  But  it  is  very 
doubtful  if  this  view  is  adequate.  To  begin  with,  there 
is  no  proof  that  a  simple  noise  is  more  injurious  to  the 
nerves  than  a  musical  note ;  and  especially  there  is  no  proof 
that  harmonious  sounds  are  especially  advantageous  to  the 
nerves.  The  explanation  is  not  only  hypothetical,  but  the 
data  of  the  explanation  are  hypothetical  also. 

Moreover,  the  view  is  far  from  being  as  simple  as  it 
seems.  Suppose  two  notes  to  be  struck  which  singly  are 
not  unpleasing,  but  together  are  discordant.  We  assume, 
then,  that  the  nervous  processes  corresponding  to  the  notes 
are  in  some  way  prejudicial  to  nervous  well-being  when 
occurring  together.  But  in  order  that  this  fact  shall  exist 
for  us,  it  must  in  some  way  affect  us  by  the  production  of 
unpleasant  feeling.  We  need  then,  first,  a  synchronous 


THE  FEELINGS.  203 

production  of  the  two  notes ;  second,  a  production  of  un- 
pleasant feeling  by  the  abnormal  nervous  process  ;  and, 
third,  a  distribution  of  this  feeling  over  the  notes  which 
thus  appear  as  discordant  or  unpleasing.  Our  delight  in 
harmony  would  be  explained  in  the  same  way.  We  should 
have  the  separate  nerve  processes  corresponding  to  the 
notes,  then  a  resultant  nerve  process  which,  without  modi- 
fying the  others,  should  be  particularly  grateful  to  the 
nerves,  then  a  production  of  pleasant  feeling  by  this  pro- 
cess, and,  finally,  a  reference  of  this  feeling  to  the  original 
notes. 

Now,  remembering  that  the  data  of  this  explanation  are 
hypothetical,  it  really  does  not  cast  a  very  strong  light  upon 
this  simple  problem.  And  if  two  nervous  processes  can  give 
rise  to  a  third  process  different  from  either,  and  grateful 
or  otherwise  to  the  nerves,  it  does  not  seem  impossible  that 
two  sensational  processes  might  give  rise  in  the  mind  itself 
to  a  third  process,  the  aesthetic  feeling,  and  that  without 
having  recourse  to  the  nerves.  We  renew  our  protesta- 
tions of  appreciation  of  physiology,  but  fail  to  see  that  it 
has  cast  much  light  upon  this  problem. 

The  attempts  to  make  aesthetic  feeling  depend  upon  some 
single  principle,  as  the  perception  of  unity  in  variety,  over-, 
look  the  elementary  aesthetic  feelings  altogether,  and  the 
complexity  and  manifoldness  of  the  aesthetic  scale. 

In  the  utilitarian  conception,  it  is  not  plain  whether  aes- 
thetic feeling  is  the  perception  of  utility,  or  arises  from 
it.  Neither  view  finds  any  justification  except  in  the  expe- 
rience of  the  unimaginative  and  prosaic.  Apart  from  such 
pathologic  cases,  the  love  of  the  beautiful,  at  least  in  the 
form  of  personal  adornment,  is  a  marked  feature  of  hu- 
manity, even  in  its  savage  and  infantile  stages  ;  and  Mr. 
Darwin  has  made  it  a  factor  even  in  animal  development. 

The  best  answer  to  the  question  why  objects  please  us 
aesthetically  lies  in  the  remark,  already  quoted  from  Plato, 


204  PSYCHOLOGY. 

that  the  mind  only  is  beautiful.  That  is,  the  soul  delights 
in  itself ;  and  hence  it  is  pleased  with  whatever  expresses, 
or  embodies,  or  symbolizes  its  own  inner  life.  Regularity, 
symmetry,  proportion,  harmony,  please  because  they  ac- 
cord with  and  express  the  orderly  nature  of  intelligence. 
The  great  symbolisms  of  light  and  sound,  of  sky  and 
sea,  of  hills  and  plains,  are  of  perennial  significance ;  as 
only  in  them  do  the  dumb  souls  of  men  find  adequate 
expression. 

The  boundaries  of  the  aesthetic  realm  do  not  admit  of 
being  sharply  drawn.  Accordingly,  there  is  no  agreement 
as  to  where  the  aesthetic  scale  begins  or  ends,  or  as  to  its 
internal  divisions.  Many  deny  aesthetic  character  to  sen- 
sations altogether,  and  confine  aesthetics  entirely  to  intel- 
lectual relations.  Still,  as  we  have  seen,  high  aesthetic 
effects  are  often  dependent  on  purely  sensible  effects, 
either  directly  presented  or  indirectly  suggested.  A  land- 
scape in  outline  is  lifeless.  The  color,  the  light,  the 
warmth,  the  life,  must  be  there  to  produce  any  marked 
effect.  The  attempts  to  divide  the  aesthetic  scale  into 
sharply  separated  divisions  is  equally  unfortunate,  and 
leads  to  various  arbitrary  dicta  on  the  part  of  critics,  few 
of  which  are  recognized  by  unsophisticated  feeling. 

In  truth,  the  aesthetic  scale  is  highly  complex,  and 
stretches  all  the  way  from  the  agreeable  in  sensation  up  to 
the  sublime  in  thought  and  action.  In  the  negative  direc- 
tion, it  extends  from  the  disagreeable  in  sensation  to  the 
terrible  and  awful  in  thought  and  action.  Nor  is  it  possi- 
ble to  draw  lines  upon  the  scale  where  one  form  ends  and 
another  begins.  As  the  colors  of  the  spectrum  shade  into 
one  another  and  yet  are  different,  or  as  heat  and  cold  are 
antithetical  ideas  and  yet  have  no  fixed  frontier,  so  the 
system  of  aesthetic  ideas  presents  a  set  of  fixed  and  graded 
conceptions  without  allowing  us  sharply  to  determine  their 
precise  limits. 


THE  FEELINGS.  205 

Attempts  to  reduce  the  aesthetic  feelings  to  some  single 
form  abound.  In  such  cases,  the  classifying  and  simplify- 
ing tendency  of  the  mind  plays  a  trick  upon  us.  The  very 
essence  of  a  feeling  is  to  be  felt ;  and  feelings  which  are 
felt  to  be  different  are  different.  But  when  feelings  show 
some  common  element,  we  gather  them  into  a  class,  from 
which  their  specific  differences  have  been  excluded ;  and 
then  all  the  conditions  for  a  penetrating  psychological 
analysis  are  present.  We  forthwith  mistake  the  logical 
universal  for  a  reality ;  and  then  conclude  that  the  specific 
feelings  are  all  phases  of  this  one  universal  and  undiffer- 
entiated  feeling.  The  analysis  is  complete  and  successful. 
We  should  reason  with  equal  profundity,  if  we  deduced  all 
specific  horses  from  the  universal  horse.  This  is  the  per- 
ennial mistake  of  sensationalism.  Quite  unconsciously,  the 
universal  is  taken  as  the  starting-point,  and  then  real  ex- 
perience is  deduced  from  it.  But  it  is  well  to  remind  our- 
selves occasionally  that  there  is  no  feeling  in  general ; 
that  the  reality  is  always  specific  feelings,  each  with  its 
specific  quality  and  coloring  ;  and  that  no  amount  of  logi- 
cal classifying  can  abolish  these  differences,  or  make  them 
other  than  they  are.  Even  our  aesthetic  feelings  are  com- 
plex and  manifold,  and  vary  with  the  objects  themselves. 
There  is  no  common  beauty,  but  each  beautiful  thing  is 
beautiful  in  its  own  way.  There  is  beauty  of  form,  of  tone, 
of  color,  of  sentiment,  of  action,  of  character ;  and  none  of 
these  have  any  common  element  beyond  the  fact  that  we 
delight  in  them  all.  At  the  same  time,  our  delight  has  a 
specific  and  peculiar  quality  in  each  class  of  cases.  But 
psychology  has  not  yet  freed  itself  from  the  blunders  of 
scholastic  realism. 

The  moral  feelings  agree  with  the  aesthetic  feelings  in 
expressing  a  satisfaction  or  dissatisfaction  in  the  presence 
of  certain  conceptions.  They  differ  especially  (1.)  in  the 
sense  of  obligation  which  is  inherent  in  the  moral  feelings, 


206  PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  (2.)  in  the  sense  of  merit  or  demerit  which  attends 
the  resultant  action.  The  perception  of  the  good  carries 
obligation,  or  contains  an  implicit  law  for  conduct ;  the 
perception  of  the  beautiful  does  not.  The  former  com- 
mands the  will ;  the  latter  delights  the  sensibility.  Never- 
theless, the  two  run  closely  together.  The  good  is  the 
highest  beauty ;  and  the  beautiful  in  action  and  character  is 
the  morally  good.  If,  then,  we  were  seeking  for  the  ideal 
law  of  life,  it  would  be  indifferent  whether  we  sought  for 
it  as  the  beautiful  or  as  the  good.  Many  of  our  so-called 
moral  judgments  are  properly  aesthetic,  referring  to  the 
beauty  or  harmony  of  the  life,  rather  than  to  the  merit  or 
righteousness  of  the  person. 

Ethical  study  may  take  two  directions.  First,  we  may 
study  the  actual  manifestation  and  development  of  the 
moral  nature  :  this  is  the  psychology  of  ethics.  Second, 
we  study  the  conditions  or  postulates  of  an  ethical  system 
assumed  to  be  rationally  consistent  and'  defensible  :  this 
is  the  metaphysics  of  ethics.  Our  present  concern  is  with 
the  psychology. 

The  universal  ethical  fact  is  the  recognition  of  a  dis- 
tinction between  right  and  wrong  in  conduct,  and  a  result- 
ing sense  of  obligation.  Traced  to  its  root,  this  depends 
upon  a  feeling  of  approval  or  disapproval  in  connection 
with  the  aims  and  principles  of  conduct.  As  long  as  these 
are  unrecognized,  there  is  no  moral  life.  As  long  as  they 
are  unclearly  perceived,  there  are  only  the  germs  of  a  moral 
life.  When  they  are  brought  out  into  clear  recognition, 
the  self-conscious  moral  life  begins.  Out  of  this  basal  feel- 
ing, the  ideal  of  life  and  the  law  of  conduct  spring. 

It  is  often  objected  that  feeling  cannot  be  a  basis  for 
ethics,  because  feeling  is  particular  while  ethical  law  must 
be  universal,  and  hence  must  be  founded  in  reason.  This 
is  merely  a  war  of  words.  If  there  were  no  sentient  beings, 
all  conduct  would  be  indifferent ;  and  when  we  ask  for  the 


THE  FEELINGS.  207 

right  principles  of  conduct,  we  can  only  represent  the 
motives  and  aims  of  action  to  ourselves,  and  wait  for  the 
immediate  feeling  of  approval  or  disapproval  to  manifest 
itself.  As  to  the  universality,  the  fact  is  not  made  univer- 
sal by  calling  it  an  utterance  of  the  reason;  nor  is  it  made 
less  than  universal  by  calling  it  feeling.  Its  universality 
depends  upon  its  content,  and  not  upon  its  psychological 
classification.  It  is  indeed  true,  that  if  man  did  nothing  but 
feel,  there  would  be  no  science  of  ethics;  but  it  is  equally 
true,  that  if  man  never  felt,  there  would  be  no  science  of 
ethics.  We  have  here  the  mistake,  already  referred  to,  of 
holding  feeling  and  reason  apart  in  unreal  separation. 

Simple  harmony  with  the  ideal  is  beautiful  even  if  con- 
stitutional, just  as  good  health  may  be.  The  failure  to 
reach  such  harmony  is  unsatisfactory,  however  meritorious 
the  person  may  be.  The  ideal  commands  perfection  and 
condemns  all  below  it.  Hence  many  have  thought  that  ob- 
ligation might  transcend  ability.  This,  justice  rejects  with 
indignation;  and  yet  it  is  the  most  prominent  fact  of  moral 
experience  that  to  do  the  best  we  can  satisfies  no  one. 
This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  ideal  as  such  is  aesthetic, 
and  takes  no  account  of  ability,  but  only  of  perfection 
or  imperfection.  Ethics,  on  the  other  hand,  while  get- 
ting its  law  from  the  ideal,  is  forced  to  limit  its  actual 
requirements  to  the  ability  of  the  agents.  This  double 
point  of  view  underlies  some  chronic  disputes  in  ethics 
and  theology. 

The  secondary  moral  feelings  are  those  which  result 
from  obedience  or  disobedience  to  moral  law.  When  the 
action  is  our  own,  we  have  the  sense  of  merit  or  demerit, 
of  personal  worthiness  or  baseness,  of  remorse,  shame,  etc. 
When  the  action  is  another's,  we  have  feelings  varying  all 
the  way  from  profound  esteem  and  approbation  to  intense 
indignation, -according  to  the  circumstances.  These  feel- 
ings are  highly  variable,  and  admit  of  all  degrees  of  in- 


208  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tensity,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  deed  itself  and  the 
grade  of  moral  development. 

The  double  standard  referred  to  produces  a  double  set  of 
feelings  to  correspond.  When  we  compare  ourselves  with 
the  ideal,  we  have  a  feeling  of  imperfection  and  unworthi- 
ness.  This  arises  from  the  opposition  between  what  we  are 
and  the  ideal  perfection.  When  we  measure  ourselves  by 
the  standard  of  ability,  we  may  have  a  feeling  of  innocence 
or  of  guilt,  of  merit  or  of  demerit.  These  feelings  depend 
upon  the  relation  of  our  deed  to  our  power  to  do.  The 
former  set  of  feelings  may  exist  in  an  intense  form  without 
any  sense  of  guilt.  In  general,  they  are  found  only  where 
there  has  been  a  good  degree  of  moral  development. 

Of  course  deductions  and  reductions  of  the  moral  senti- 
ments abound.  The  method  employed  is  that  dwelt  upon 
at  so  great  length  in  a  previous  chapter.  They  are  identi- 
fied with  their  conditions  or  with  some  of  their  attendants, 
or  something  else  is  called  by  their  nnme,  or  their  suc- 
cessive and  conditioned  genesis  is  identified  with  the  trans- 
formation of  non-moral  elements  into  them.  Heredity  and 
the  chemistry  of  ideas  also  play  their  well-known  part; 
and  finally  comes  the  great  act  of  faith  which  is  the  su- 
preme condition  of  success  in  the  transformation.  The 
procedure  is  purely  verbal.  If  we  begin  with  a  soul  capa- 
ble only  of  selfish,  or  social,  or  prudential  considerations, 
there  is  no  way  of  getting  beyond  them.  Our  sense  of 
duty,  then,  must  be  identified  with  pity,  or  sympathy,  or 
fear  of  punishment,  or  fear  of  public  opinion,  or  desire  of 
esteem,  or  considerations  of  prudence,  or  some  other  non- 
moral  element.  But  this  identification  is  impossible ;  for 
the  sense  of  duty  refuses  to  coalesce  with  any  of  the  things 
mentioned ;  and  the  surest  proof  that  different  feelings  are 
different  is  the  fact  that  they  are  given  as  different.  But 
if  we  set  out  to  deduce  the  moral  sentiments  from  non- 
moral  antecedents,  the  data  lie  dead  and  motionless  as  long 


THE  FEELINGS.  209 

as  the  soul  is  supposed  to  have  fully  expressed  itself  in 
them.  TO  reach  any  progress,  we  must  once  more  assume 
that  these  data  are  in  interaction  with  a  mental  nature 
which  transcends  them,  and  which  under  certain  conditions 
manifests  itself  in  new  forms.  Without  this  assumption, 
our  deduction  is  as  absurd  as  the  attempt  to  deduce  chemi- 
cal action  from  atoms  whose  nature  is  supposed  to  be  ex- 
hausted in  simple  gravitation.  Who  knows  what  might  not 
happen  in  such  a  case,  if  the  atoms  had  much  experience  ? 

Verbal  ambiguity,  also,  is  ready  to  help  us  out.  We  can 
define  beneficence  as  doing  things  for  others,  and  this  we 
may  call  altruism.  Then  we  may  show  that  a  wise  egoism 
must  lead  us  to  do  things  for  others ;  and  thus  we  tran- 
scend egoism  and  deduce  altruism.  Of  course,  such  al- 
truism is  purely  egoistic,  and  has  absolutely  nothing  in 
common  with  that  principle  which  commands  us  to  let 
others'  rights  and  happiness  weigh  as  much  as  our  own  ; 
but  we  may  call  it  altruism  in  a  special  sense,  and  then 
quietly  drop  the  limitation.  We  may  not  notice  the  fal- 
lacy ourselves ;  and  our  readers  will  almost  certainly  fail 
to  do  so. 

Finally,  we  may  attempt  to  deduce  morality  by  confining 
our  attention  to  external  conduct.  What  we  think  right  or 
wrong  in  outward  action  depends  very  largely  upon  custom, 
tradition,  and  society  in  general.  Society,  then,  may  be 
called  the  source  of  the  individual's  code,  and  hence  of  his 
morality.  Right  and  wrong,  then,  are  the  creation  of  soci- 
ety. But  external  conduct  is  not  the  sum  of  morality  ;  and 
this  view  has  to  provide  for  the  internal  sentiments  and 
sanctions  connected  with  the  notion  of  duty.  For  this  it 
can  only  fall  back  upon  the  chemistry  of  ideas,  and  seek  to 
transform  non-moral  elements  into  moral  ones ;  or  it  must 
attempt  to  identify  our  sense  of  duty  with  fear  of  punish- 
ment, or  of  public  opinion,  etc.  In  either  case  there  is 
utter  failure. 

14 


210  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  actual  development  of  moral  sentiments  and  ideas  is 
a  slow  and  complicated  process,  into  which  all  the  factors 
enter  by  which  the  associationalist  seeks  to  explain  it. 
The  moral  element  itself  is  originally  given  only  as  a  germi- 
nal potentiality,  and  not  as  a  completed  and  systematic 
insight.  Its  right  development  depends  upon  a  great  many 
favoring  circumstances.  Attaching  fundamentally  to  the 
aims  and  motives  of  conduct,  it  has  but  little  scope  until 
these  aims  and  motives  have  acquired  some  complexity  and 
richness  of  content.  It  must  next  be  specified  into  codes 
of  life  and  conduct  which  shall  correspond  to  the  ideal  law 
within.  In  this  process  there  is  the  most  complex  and  pro- 
found interaction  between  the  moral  and  the  intellectual 
nature.  Our  experience  of  consequences,  our  knowledge  of 
tendencies,  our  underlying  world-view,  all  enter  into  the 
formation  of  our  codes.  This  accounts  in  great  measure 
for  the  discordant  moral  history  of  mankind.  We  believe 
in  an  ethical  development  both  of  the  individual  and  of  the 
race ;  we  deny  only  that  this  development  is  possible  without 
assuming  an  original  ethical  germ,  or  predisposition,  in  the 
mind,  which  contains,  not  indeed  an  unconditioned  princi- 
ple, but  an  immanent  law,  of  moral  development. 

The  religious  sentiments  are  closely  connected  with  the 
ethical.  They  differ  especially  in  this,  that  the  former  are 
explicitly  directed  toward  some  supernatural  being  or  beings 
conceived  as  personal,  while  the  latter  do  not  immediately 
contain  such  reference.  When  the  idea  of  God  is  given,  the 
moral  law  is  almost  inevitably  thought  as  expressing  His 
will  ?  and  this  has  led  many  to  claim  that  the  moral  nature 
immediately  reveals  a  Holy  Person  as  its  author ;  but  this 
is  an  exaggeration. 

Since  religious  feeling  is  thus  connected  with  the  concep- 
tion of  supernatural  personality,  we  have  first  to  inquire 
where  this  conception  comes  from. 

Experience  does  not  reveal  its  source.     History  finds  it 


THE  FEELINGS.  211 

everywhere  present;  and  wherever  we  find  man,  we  find 
him  in  possession  of  it  in  some  form.  Nor  is  it  derived 
from  argument;  for  all  argument  presupposes  its  exist- 
ence. The  so-called  proofs  of  the  being  of  Gqd  originate 
nothing,  but  attempt  only  to  determine  the  authority  of  an 
idea  already  existing.  Religious  progress  has  never  con- 
sisted in  finding  the  idea  of  God,  but  in  elevating  and 
purifying  that  idea.  The  idea  of  the  supernatural,  like  the 
idea  of  right  and  duty,  is  universal ;  but,  like  that  idea 
again,  its  content  is  not  clearly  defined.  Both  ideas  have 
a  formal  position  of  authority,  from  which  they  will  never 
consent  to  be  degraded ;  but  both  ideas  also  may  be  very 
imperfectly  conceived. 

Only,  hypothetical  answers  can  be  given  to  the  question. 
One  of  these  is  that  the  idea  of  the  supernatural  arises 
from  the  deification  of  natural  objects,  as  the  sun,  the 
heavens,  etc.  This  does  not  much  advance  the  matter,  as 
it  amounts  only  to  saying  that  the  idea  arises  from  regard- 
ing the  natural  as  supernatural.  It  presupposes  the  idea 
of  the  supernatural  in  at  least  some  vague  form.  Sense 
objects  must  always  be  taken  as  they  appear,  until  some 
transforming  idea  is  found  elsewhere.  If  we  have  darkly 
lurking  in  us  some  conception  of  divine  power,  it  would  be 
easy  to  regard  sense  objects  as  symbols  thereof ;  but  until 
then  the  sun  can  only  be  taken  as  a  luminous  disk,  the  idol 
as  a  stick  or  stone,  and  neither  can  be  regarded  as  divine. 

Another  answer  has  been  that  the  idea  of  a  supernatural 
realm  first  arose  through  the  phenomena  of  dreams  and 
apparitions.  They  suggested  the  notion  of  a  ghostly  exist- 
ence, and,  when  the  idea  once  got  afloat,  it  was  speedily 
taken  up,  and  by  degrees  wrought  out  into  the  various 
forms  of  religious  conception.  These  are  all  sublimated 
forms  of  an  original  belief  in  ghosts.  Such  a  view  might 
be  entertained  if  it  were  demonstrated  that  the  supernatural 
in  the  religious  sense  does  not  exist;  but  even  then  we 


212  PSYCHOLOGY. 

could  not  explain  the  universality  of  the  belief  without  as- 
suming that  there  is  something  in  human  nature  which  de- 
mands it  and  to  which  it  corresponds.  It  would  require  too 
much  faith  to  believe  that  a  conception  purely  adventitious 
and  fictitious  could  secure  such  spread  and  pre-eminence. 

At  the  opposite  extreme  is  the  view  that  the  existence  of 
God  is  immediately  revealed,  either  in  feeling  or  in  intuition. 
This  view  arises  from  the  failure  of  other  views,  rather  than 
from  any  psychological  observation.  Neither  the  feeling 
nor  the  intuition  can  be  pointed  out.  A  feeling  as  such  is 
only  a  state  of  the  sensibility,  and  can  only  inferentially 
give  information  about  objects.  That  we  have  no  such  in- 
tuition appears  from  the  fact  that  men  have  generally 
sought  to  prove  the  existence  of  God.  No  one  argues  to 
prove  what  every  /one  immediately  sees. 

The  last  view  must  take  on  the  following  form.  The 
human  mind  is  such  that  as  the  outcome  of  its  total  experi- 
ence it  forms  the  conception  of  the  supernatural,  not  as  the 
result  of  conscious  inferential  processes,  but  as  an  expres- 
sion of  its  own  needs  and  nature.  As  the  result  of  some 
sensations,  we  posit  a  world  of  things ;  as  the  result  of 
others,  we  posit  a  world  of  persons ;  as  a  result  of  our  to- 
tal experience,  we  posit  God.  The  result  is  not  the  out- 
come of  logical  compulsion,  but  of  a  certain  psychological 
necessity  expressed,  in  the  nature  of  our  intelligence.  It  is 
not  made  or  deduced,  but  grows  out  of  life  itself.  This  view 
is  the  only  one  which  clearly  accounts  for  the  universality 
and  persistence  of  the  idea. 

But  with  the  bare  affirmation  of  the  supernatural,  the 
religious  problem  is  by  no  means  solved.  The  idea  has 
next  to  be  defined  so  as  to  meet  the  demands  made  upon 
it.  In  this  work  all  the  factors  of  our  complex  nature 
work  together.  Each  faculty  has  its  special  ideal,  and  God 
is  the  ideal  of  the  whole  nature,  or  the  ideal  of  ideals. 
The  intellect  demands  unity,  and  contributes  its  ideal  of 


THE  FEELINGS.  213 

perfect  reason  and  insight.  The  conscience  furnishes  its 
ideal  of  perfect  righteousness  and  holiness.  The  aesthetic 
nature  furnishes  its  ideal  of  perfect  beauty  and  harmony. 
The  heart  furnishes  its  ideal  of  goodness  and  love.  These 
are  all  united  in  the  thought  of  God,  the  ideal  of  religion. 
When  this  is  impossible,  there  is  discord  in  our  nature, 
with  resulting  dissatisfaction.  As  long  as  any  claim  of  heart 
or  conscience  or  intellect  is  unrecognized,  there  can  be  no 
abiding  peace.  But  when  all  the  claims  of  our  many-sided 
nature  are  united  in  the  thought  of  an  all-wise  and  holy  God 
of  love,  our  whole  nature  is  at  peace,  and  each  faculty  finds 
its  claims  at  once  recognized  and  assured.  The  intellect 
finds  its  highest  support  and  warrant  in  the  thought  of  the 
Eternal  Reason  at  the  ro'ot  of  things.  The  conscience  rests 
secure  in  the  thought  of  a  throne  of  righteousness  which 
can  never  be  overturned,  a  Holy  Will  which  can  be  neither 
defied  nor  mocked.  The  aesthetic  nature  finds  its  full  sat- 
isfaction, and  the  heart  finds  an  object  worthy  of  everlast- 
ing love.  The  clearing  up  of  the  idea  has  been  a  long  and 
complex  process,  into  which  many  factors  have  entered, 
the  most  prominent  being  the  Christian  revelation.  But 
the  implicit  aim  of  the  process  has  been  to  reach  a  religious 
conception  in  which  all  the  demands  of  our  nature,  voli- 
tional, aesthetic,  affectional,  and  intellectual,  should  find  at 
once  recognition  and  fulfilment.  A  great  variety  of  feel- 
ings and  interests  lead  to  the  religious  conception  ;  and 
it  in  turn  reacts  upon  them,  and  raises  them  to  a  higher 
form  of  development,  and  gives  them  greater  power.  When 
the  conception  is  unworthy,  it  reacts  upon  the  life,  some- 
times with  an  awful  force  of  degradation,  and  sometimes 
it  leads  to  a  blighting  of  the  religious  impulse  and  a  with- 
ering of  the  emotional  nature. 

The  feelings  thus  far  considered  are  primary,  that  is, 
they  spring  immediately  from  experience  without  the  need 
of  any  mental  work  beyond  that  involved  in  the  experi- 


214  PSYCHOLOGY. 

ence  itself.  But  after  they  have  been  experienced,  they 
may  bo  conceived  as  possible  in  a  future  experience,  and 
thus  may  give  rise  to  desire  and  aversion,  hope  and  fear. 
When  they  are  connected  with  the  thought  of  their  causes, 
these  also  become  objects  of  desire  or  aversion,  hope  or 
fear.  These  feelings  are  conditioned  by  simple  experiences 
of  pain  or  pleasure  in  past  experience,  and  so  far  as  they 
apply  to  objects  they  depend  upon  the  conception  of  the 
objects  as  related  to  our  well-being.  Where  there  is  no 
knowledge,  neither  desire  nor  aversion,  neither  hope  nor 
fear,  is  possible.  The  desires  themselves  admit  of  all 
degrees  of  intensity ;  and  according  as  they  are  gratified 
or  not,  they  give  rise  to  a  boundless  variety  of  feelings,  both 
pleasurable  and  painful. 

As  thus  understood,  the  desires  are  plainly  secondary, 
being  conditioned  (1.)  upon  previous  experience  of  pain  or 
pleasure,  and,  (2.)  as  far  as  they  relate  to  things,  upon  a 
knowledge  of  the  causes  of  those  experiences  and  of  their 
relation  to  our  own  interests.  The  desire  for  power,  wealth, 
place,  etc.  is  entirely  dependent  upon  their  relation  in  some 
way  to  our  happiness  or  purposes.  Simple  possession  as 
sucli  counts  for  nothing,  even  with  the  miser.  If  it  were 
not  for  the  gratification,  implicit  or  potential,  in  his  hoards, 
the  miser  would  lose  all  interest  in  them.  But,  as  in  the 
fixed  order  of  life  the  connection  between  the  objects  of 
desire  and  our  gratification  is  tolerably  constant,  the  for- 
mer seem  often  to  be  passionately  desired  for  their  own 
sake.  The  love  of  money  is  a  striking  example.  Never- 
theless, the  secondary  nature  of  such  objects  of  desire  is 
manifest. 

A  dispute  exists  as  to  the  object,  of  desire.  Is  it  the 
pleasure,  or  the  thing  which  gives  it  ?  For  partisan  rea- 
sons, it  has  often  been  claimed  that  the  object  of  desire  is 
always  pleasure,  and  that  the  object  is  desired  only  for  the 
pleasure  it  gives.  Amount  of  pleasure  being  equal,  one 


THE  FEELINGS.  215 

thing  is  as  desirable  as  another,  or,  as  Bentham  put  it, 
"  push-pin  is  as  good  as  poetry." 

The  claim  in  this  form  assumes  the  commensurability, 
or  rather  the  essential  identity,  of  pleasures.  This  rests, 
in  turn,  upon  a  scholastic  hypostasis  of  a  class  term. 
Pleasure  is  pleasure,  no  doubt,  and  so  are  metals  metals ; 
but,  as  belonging  to  a  common  class  in  the  latter  case  does 
not  exclude  incommensurable  differences  among  metals, 
so  belonging  to  a  common  class  in  the  former  case  does 
not  exclude  specific  and  incommensurable  differences  among 
pleasures.  In  fact  there  is  no  common  pleasure  to  which 
all  things  minister  in  varying  degrees,  and  by  which  their 
worth  can  be  measured.  This  is  purely  a  fiction  of  doctri- 
naires who  have  eyes  only  for  their  own  theory ;  or  rather 
it  is  the  old  scholastic  blunder  of  mistaking  the  logical 
universal  for  the  common  element  out  of  which  particular 
experiences  are  made. 

The  question  whether  we  desire  the  thing  or  the  pleasure 
it  produces  further  assumes  that  these  objects  are  separable 
in  reality,  which  is  far  from  being  always  the  case.  When 
we  are  dealing  with  external  objects  which  have  only  a 
utilitarian  value,  the  separation  is  possible  ;  and  the  object 
is  desired  because  of  that  value.  But  when  we  are  dealing 
with  aesthetic  objects,  or  our  own  powers  and  faculties,  the 
separation  is  impossible.  Do  we  desire  the  beautiful  object, 
or  only  the  delight  in  beauty  ?  Do  we  desire  to  know,  or 
only  the  pleasure  of  knowing  ?  In  such  cases  the  suggested 
separation  is  absurd.  To  be  sure,  if  we  lost  aesthetic  or 
intellectual  interest,  we  should  lose  tlie  corresponding  de- 
sires ;  but  the  desires  themselves  have  no  meaning  when 
separated  from  those  objects  or  mental  functions  in  which 
alone  they  are  realized.  We  conclude,  then,  on  the  one 
hand,  that  nothing  would  be  desired  if  there  were  no 
pleasure  connected  with  it,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  this 
pleasure  is  often  so  connected  with  the  thing  as  to  have  no 


216 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


meaning  when  separated  from  it.  The  pleasure  is  but  an 
evaluation  of  the  thing  in  question,  and  like  all  values 
presupposes  the  thing.  4 

The  relation  of  feeling  and  desire  to  other  objects  is 
highly  variable,  especially  in  intensity.  "We  can  repress  or 
exalt  feeling,  and  we  can  direct  desire.  The  physical  feel- 
ings may  change  from  pleasure  to  pain,  or  conversely,  with 
the  same  object ;  and  many  of  our  mental  likes  and  dis- 
likes are  equally  unstable.  Practice  and  habit  make  many 
things  agreeable,  and  even  necessary,  which  at  the  begin- 
ning were  positively  distasteful.  The  development  of  so- 
ciety shows  similar  changes,  especially  in  a  willingness 
to  work.  In  a  consciousness  not  preoccupied  with  aims, 
plans,  ambitions,  ideals,  the  passive  emotional  elements 
would  be  fairly  constant,  at  least  in  character ;  but  the 
actual  consciousness  of  mature  life  is  thus  preoccupied. 
The  mind  cares  less  for  passive  satisfactions  than  for  the 
feelings  which  attend  active  self-assertion,  or  self-realization. 
Hence  the  leading  interests  of  the  mind  are  connected  with 
those  objects  or  aims  to  which  it  has  given  once  for  all  an 
abiding  value,  or  which  it  has  made  the  standard  of  its 
action.  Here  the  interest  increases  with  the  self-devotion ; 
and  the  devotion  grows  with  the  interest.  Such  a  state  of 
mind  is  more  than  a  simple  desire ;  it  represents  a  funda- 
mental interest  or  disposition  of  the  mind.  It  is  in  the 
nature  of  these  interests  that  character  is  especially  re- 
vealed. They  modify  profoundly  the  nature  of  the  emo- 
tional life,  and  give  it  a  general  direction. 

The  feelings,  then,  are  not  invariable  outcomes  of  their 
cognitive  conditions,  but  to  a  very  considerable  extent 
admit  of  direction  and  control.  This  control,  however,  is 
not  immediate,  but  indirect,  through  the  direction  of  atten- 
tion. The  feeling  which  cannot  be  driven  off  by  immediate 
volition  can  be  outflanked  by  directing  the  attention  else- 
where. And  here  the  fact  appears,  that  there  is  an  ideal 


THE  FEELINGS.  217 

order  implicit  in  the  soul,  according  to  which  the  feelings 
should  be  regulated.  We  demand  that  we  feel  toward  our 
objects  in  proportion  to  their  rank  and  worth.  To  be  in- 
terested solely  in  physical  goods,  is  the  mark  of  an  animal 
life.  To  be  enthusiastic  over  the  insignificant,  is  a  form  of 
folly  which  finds  its  perfection  in  the  fool.  To  be  cold  and 
indifferent  toward  the  highest,  indicates  either  an  atrophy, 
or  a  distortion,  of  the  emotional  nature.  The  indifferent 
must  be  treated  with  indifference ;  the  commonplace  must 
not  be  exalted ;  enthusiasm  and  devotion  belong  only  to 
noble  objects  ;  and  wrath  must  be  reserved  for  injustice, 
baseness,  and  degradation. 

Experience  first  acquires  living  reality  in  feeling.  A 
mental  life  in  which  ideas  should  succeed  one  another 
while  the  mental  subject  remained  utterly  indifferent, 
would  be  utterly  mechanical  and  meaningless.  A  voli- 
tional life  of  equal  indifference  would  be  equally  worthless. 
These  mental  functions  become  personal  and  significant 
only  as  our  feelings  and  interests  inform  them  with  life 
and  meaning.  And,  in  general,  all  values  and  all  goods 
exist  as  such  only  in  the  sensibility.  Apart  from  this, 
there  is  no  reason  for  desiring  one  thing  rather  than 
another,  or  for  saying  that  one  thing  or  state  is  better 
than  another.  Will  and  understanding  have  no  signifi- 
cance except  as  instruments  of  this  throbbing  and  aspiring 
sensitive  life. 

The  desires  and  their  opposites  form  the  transition  from 
knowing  to  willing.  In  feeling  and  knowing,  we  have  the 
condition  of  desire  ;  and  in  desire,  we  have  the  condition  of 
proper  volition.  Our  feelings  and  interests  are  the  deepest 
thing  in  us.  They  furnish  the  great  impulses  to  action, 
and  they  also  outline  its  direction.  The  great  distinction 
between  the  human  and  the  brute  mind  lies  less  in  the 
cognitive  faculties  than  in  the  motive  powers.  Man  can 
interest  himself  in  truth,  in  righteousness,  in  beauty,  in  a 


218  PSYCHOLOGY. 

great  variety  of  ideal  aims,  which  thus  become  the  norms 
and  guides  of  his  action.  For  these  basal  interests, -the 
intellect  is  simply  instrumental,  and  the  will  is  merely 
executive.  Because  of  this  relation  of  the  desires  to  voli- 
tion, they  have  often  been  classed  together,  but  improperly. 
A.  desire,  as  a  state  of  feeling,  has  no  element  of  will  in  it ; 
but  only  the  conditions  of  willing  in  a  volitional  being. 

The  aim  of  this  chapter  has  not  been  to  furnish  a  classi- 
fication of  feelings,  but  to  describe  the  various  elements 
which  enter  as  constituent  factors  into  our  emotional  life. 
Of  course,  it  is  not  meant  that  they  occur  in  this  separate- 
ness  in  experience.  Actual  sensitive  states  are  variously 
compounded,  and  form  a  complex  web  into  which  many 
forms  of  feeling  enter. 


WILL  AND  ACTION.  219 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WILL  AND  ACTION. 

THE  spontaneous  consciousness  of  the  race  as  revealed 
in  language  distinguishes  a  realm  of  mental  passivity  and 
one  of  mental  activity.  In  the  former,  we  are  acted  upon  ; 
in  the  latter,  we  act.  To  the  former  belong  all  the  affec- 
tions of  the  sensibility,  and  the  rise  and  association  of 
ideas.  To  the  latter  belong  thinking  proper,  and  all  activity 
directed  toward  external  objects.  The  same  spontaneous 
consciousness  has  further  distinguished  from  knowing  and 
feeling  a  third  great  form  of  mental  manifestation  as  will- 
ing. This  is  the  next  subject  of  our  study. 

The  assumption  of  willing  is  so  interwoven  into  thought 
and  speech,  that  language  would  be  wrecked  by  its  removal, 
or  at  least  very  greatly  modified.  Hence,  no  psychologists 
venture  to  deny  the  existence  of  willing  as  a  form  of  inter- 
nal experience,  though  they  differ  widely  as  to  what  the 
will  may  be.  Some,  as  Schopenhauer  and  Hartmann,  ex- 
tend willing  even  to  unconscious  activities  ;  others,  as  Spi- 
noza, and,  to  a  great  extent,  Leibnitz,  regard  it  as  only  a 
form  of  cognition ;  and  still  others,  as  Herbart,  regard  it 
as  the  form  of  interaction  among  our  ideas, — a  view  which 
has  been  modified  by  some  physiological  psychologists  so 
as  to  make  will  the  form  of  interaction  among  the  nascent 
motor  impulses  in  the  nerves  which  are  supposed  to  attend 
our  mental  states.  All  of  these  views,  however,  are  deduc- 
tions from  some  general  metaphysical  or  psychological  the- 
ory, rather  than  formulations  of  psychological  facts.  We 
shall  do  better  to  begin  with  the  facts. 


220  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Not  all  of  activity  is  volitional.  In  one  sense,  all  forms 
of  mental  experience,  including  even  sensations,  are  modes 
of  action ;  as  they  express  a  mental  reaction  against  either 
external  or  internal  stimuli.  The  mind  when  passive  is 
not  properly  inactive ;  but  the  form  of  its  activity  is  deter- 
mined by  its  circumstances,  according  to  some  fixed  law. 
Popular  thought,  however,  recognizes  activity  only  where 
some  external  change  is  produced,  or  where  the  mental 
current  is  changed  or  directed  by  volition.  We  are  said  to 
be  passive  when  the  ground  of  our  state  is  other  than  our- 
selves; and  active  when  we  ourselves  are  that  ground. 

But  not  all  of  this  activity  is  volitional.  A  good  part 
of  our  external  activity  is  of  a  reflex  nature,  and  follows 
its  antecedents  by  uniform  law.  Within  the  mind,  also, 
the  desires  and  appetites  form  a  complex  series  of  impulses 
to  action,  which  tend  of  themselves  to  pass  into  activity 
without  any  volition  of  ours.  A  large  part  of  our  activity 
is  of  this  sort,  and  may  be  called  constitutional  or  mechan- 
ical. Its  general  characteristic  is  that  it  follows  uniformly 
from  its  antecedents,  according  to  fixed  law.  Such  activity 
is  not  recognized  by  the  common  consciousness  as  voli- 
tional ;  and  we  can  call  it  such  only  by  a  violent  wrenching 
of  terms.  This  has,  indeed,  been  done  ;  and  all  active  re- 
action against  stimuli,  whether  internal  or  external,  has 
been  referred  to  will.  In  this  way  even  reflex  action  has 
been  brought  under  the  head  of  willing ;  but  at  the  same 
time  willing  has  been  reduced  to  the  plane  of  reflex  action. 
All  that  such  violent  assaults  upon  language  result  in  is 
the  possibility  of  confusing  the  subject  and  the  student. 

This  constitutional  activity  is  highly  complex.  In  con- 
nection with  the  body  we  have  simple  reaction,  largely  de- 
termined by  the  structure  of  the  nervous  system.  We  also 
have  the  physical  appetites  and  impulses  which  furnish  the 
ground  for  highly  complex  mental  reaction.  Within  the 
mind,  also,  we  have  stimuli  to  action  in  the  simple  pains 


WILL   AND  ACTION.  221 

and  pleasures,  and  still  others  in  the  constitutional  needs 
and  impulses  of  the  mind  itself.  These  precede  volitional 
activity,  and  are  only  partially  subject  to  volitional  control. 
There  is  no  need  to  describe  them  in  detail. 

For  these  constitutional  feelings  which  determine  the 
mind  to  action  we  have  no  single  word  in  English.  We 
call  them  appetites,  impulses,  instincts,  etc.  Their  nature 
is  well  expressed  by  their  German  name,  Trieb,  or  Natur- 
trieb.  This  brings  their  driving  or  impelling  character  to 
light. 

But  above  and  beyond  this  mechanical  or  constitutional 
activity,  the  common  consciousness  recognizes  a  form  of 
volitional  action.  This  is  not  a  wish,  or  a  desire,  or  a  con- 
stitutional impulse,  though  it  may  spring  from  any  of  these 
as  a  condition.  It  is  also  not  a  cognition  or  a  judgment, 
though  it  may  spring  from  these  too.  It  is  not  a  feeling  of 
pain  or  of  pleasure,  though  such  a  feeling  may  lead  to  it. 
In  short,  a  volition  is  a  volition,  and  cannot  be  explained 
or  understood  through  anything  else.  . 

It  is  highly  important  to  distinguish  volition  from  its 
psychological  attendants.  Because  volition  is  often  based 
on  a  judgment,  it  is  concluded  that  a  volition  is  a  judgment. 
Yet  the  two  are  sharply  distinguished,  both  in  their  psycho- 
logical nature  and  in  their  direction.  The  perception,  or 
judgment,  that  a  given  course  of  action  is  wiser  than  an- 
other, is  by  no  means  a  willing  of  the  same.  The  former 
may  exist  without  the  latter,  and  the  latter  may  contradict 
the  former.  Again,  because  volition  often  springs  from 
desire  and  the  accompanying  impulse  to  action,  it  is  often 
identified  with  desire.  This  is  the  traditional  confusion. 
Nevertheless,  these  two  also  are  distinct,  both  in  their  char- 
acter and,  at  times,  in  their  direction.  A  thing  may  be 
most  strongly  desired  without  being  willed,  either  because 
we  perceive  the  thing  desired  to  be  impossible,  or  in  conflict 
with  prudence,  or  with  other  plans,  or  with  our  ethical 


222  PSYCHOLOGY. 

ideas.  In  this  case  desire  does  not  include  a  volition. 
Again,  we  often  oppose  our  will  to  our  desires,  so  as  to 
repress,  or  at  least  resist  them.  All  exhortations  to  pru- 
dence, to  self-control,  to  righteousness,  rest  upon  the 
assumed  possibility  of  doing  this.  Here  the  volition  is  not 
only  distinct  from  the  desires,  it  appears  as  the  expression 
of  an  energy  directed  toward  their  resistance  and  control. 
In  short,  we  may  sum  the  conception  of  will  as  it  exists 
for  spontaneous  thought  before  any  theories  have  been 
formed  about  it  in  the  notion  of  a  power  of  self-control. 
The  will  is  the  power  which  the  soul  has  of  controlling 
itself  within  certain  limits,  and  a  volition  is  an  act  of  such 
control.  Within  those  limits  the  soul  can  elicit  or  guide, 
intensify  or  repress,  its  activities,  according  to  a  precon- 
ceived rule,  or  for  the  realization  of  a  preconceived  end. 

Volitional  action  is  conditioned  by  consciousness.  Un- 
conscious action  is  regarded  as  volitional  only  by  those 
who  war  upon  the  conventions  of  language  ;  and  even  they 
understand  volitional  in  some  esoteric  sense.  The  only 
clear  notion  which  can  be  attached  to  unconscious  willing 
is  that  of  a  necessary  agent,  which  may  act  with  adaptation 
to  its  environment,  yet  without  becoming  any  less  blind 
and  mechanical.  Even  if  we  call  such  action  spontaneous, 
we  can  only  mean  thereby  that  it  arises  from  impulses 
which  originate  within  the  agent  itself ;  but  it  is  no  less 
blind  and  necessary  in  such  a  case  than  when  it  is  a  reflex 
action  against  external  action.  Generally,  volition  implies 
foresight  and  intention ;  in  all  cases  it  implies  conscious- 
ness. When  the  emotional  or  other  disturbance  is  so 
great  as  to  make  foresight  and  intention  impossible,  or 
when  there  "has  not  been  sufficient  mental  development  to 
provide  for  them,  the  activity  is  generally  regarded  as  non- 
volitional. 

In  spontaneous  thought,  volitional  activity  is  always 
regarded  as  free.  This  arises  partly  from  the  peculiar  con- 


WILL  AND  ACTION.  223 

sciousness  we  have  in  such  activity  of  being  the  cause  and 
source  of  the  activity.  In  conducting,  for  example,  a 
train  of  thought,  we  have  a  very  clear  conviction  that  it 
depends  upon  our  volition  whether  it  shall  go  on  or  not, 
and  that  the  volition  depends  upon  us.  So  with  other 
activity  which  falls  within  volitional  limits  ;  we  are  clearly 
conscious-  that  we  can  begin,  continue,  or  end  it,  and  that 
without  compulsion  of  any  sort,  internal  or  external.  The 
conviction  of  freedom  arises  also,  and  especially,  from  the 
ethical  sense  of  responsibility.  Under  normal  circum- 
stances, and  when  undebauched  by  speculation,  no  one  can 
help  regarding  himself  and  his  neighbors  as  responsible 
for  voluntary  action ;  and,  under  the  same  circumstances, 
no  one  can  regard  any  one  as  responsible  who,  by  internal 
or  external  necessity,  is  shut  up  to  a  single  course  of 
action.  The  great  form  of  excuse  for  wrong-doing  is,  I 
could  not  help  it.  These  two  facts  lead  us  to  refer  our 
acts  to  ourselves  as  their  responsible,  that  is,  as  their  free 
cause. 

The  conception  of  freedom  in  spontaneous  thought  al- 
ways involves  the  thought  of  a  possible  alternative.  This 
view  has  the  advantage  of  being  intelligible  and  valuable. 
Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  define  freedom  so  as  to 
include  necessity.  Thus,  that  is  free  which  is  not  coerced 
or  impelled  from  without ;  or  that  is  free  which  unfolds 
without  hindrance  its  own  nature.  At  the  same  time  this 
freedom  may  be  absolutely  determined  by  some  internal 
necessity.  But  when  this  inner  necessity  is  extended  to 
the  entire  activity,  we  have  nothing  of  freedom  left  but 
the  name ;  and  it  would  tend  to  clearness  if  this  were 
dropped. 

This  spontaneous  conception  of  the  will  is  not  accepted 
by  a  large  class  of  speculators.  Some  of  these  deny  the 
existence  of  will  altogether  as  a  reality,  and  make  willing 
only  a  peculiar  phase  of  mechanical  activity.  Others  admit 


224  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  reality  of  the  will  and  the  efficiency  of  volition,  but 
claim  that  the  will  itself  is  determined.  These  admit  that 
my  volition  determines  within  certain  limits  whether  my 
activity  shall  begin,  continue,  or  cease ;  but  they  deny  that 
the  volition  itself  is  free.  Both  views  agree  in  denying 
freedom,  but  differ  in  the  underlying  psychology.  The 
difference,  however,  is  much  less  than  appears. 

The  first  view  conceives  action  as  follows.  All  our 
ideas,  especially  when  accompanied  by  feeling  and  desire, 
tend  automatically  to  pass  into  action.  In  thinking,  we 
notice  a  tendency  to  pronounce  the  words.  In  watching 
the  movements  of  an  athlete,  we  experience  a  tendency  to 
imitate  them.  The  desires  show  this  tendency  in  a  much 
higher  degree.  Here,  then,  is  a  basis  of  activity.  When 
the  idea  or  desire  is  single,  it  passes  automatically  into 
action.  When  the  mental  state  is  complex,  then  the  con- 
stituent desires  and  motor  impulses  conflict  with  one  an- 
other. This  conflict  appears  in  consciousness  as  reflection 
and  deliberation.  Finally,  the  strongest  represses  its  com- 
petitors and  passes  into  action.  Such  an  act  is  called 
volitional.  It  is,  however,  purely  mechanical ;  and  its 
volitional  character  is  but  the  reflex  in  consciousness  of 
the  mechanical  conflict  of  the  active  impulses,  arising  from 
the  ideas  and  desires  in  question.  A  volitional  activity  is 
essentially  a  complex  mechanical  activity,  whose  factors 
largely  elude  our  knowledge.  And  since  we  are  rarely  con- 
scious of  all  the  impulses  at  work,  we  come  to  think  that 
we  determine  our  will ;  or  that  whatever  the  motives  may 
be  which  compete  for  our  assent,  we  have  the  casting  vote. 
In  this  way  arises  the  illusion  of  the  freedom  of  the  will, 
or  rather  of  freedom  in  willing. 

The  second  view  differs  from  this  only  verbally ;  for  its 
philosophy  of  action  is  essentially  the  same.  Desires  and 
impulses  are  introduced  as  constitutional  elements,  and  are 
supposed  to  conflict,  especially  in  the  form  of  motives.  In 


WILL  AND  ACTION.  225 

this  conflict  the  strongest  always  prevails,  and  its  preva- 
lence is  the  volition.  The  difference  is  plainly  verbal.  If, 
in  addition  to  the  prevalence  of  the  motive,  there  were 
needed  a  special  act  of  volition  for  the  realization  of  the 
motive,  we  should  have  all  our  work  for  nothing.  The 
result  would  be  an  incongruous  mixture  of  freedom  and 
necessity.  The  two  views,  then,  may  be  treated  as  one. 
Both  alike  reduce  action  to  a  series  of  occurrences  within 
us,  according  to  the  laws  of  causation. 

This  view  is  not  founded  on  consciousness.  The  con- 
sciousness of  freedom,  of  self-control,  is  admitted,  but  ex- 
plained as  an  illusion  arising  from  our  ignorance  of  the 
forces  at  work  upon  us  and  within  us.  This  is  aided  by 
regarding  this  consciousness  as  negative,  as  the  lack  of  con- 
sciousness of  compulsion ;  and  then  we  are  instructed  that 
our  unconsciousness  of  compulsion  does  not  disprove  its 
reality.  It  might  be  questioned  whether  our  consciousness 
is  thus  purely  negative ;  but  at  any  rate  our  unconscious- 
ness of  compulsion  does  not  prove  that  we  are  compelled. 
This  extraordinary  conclusion  has  not  been  unknown  in 
the  history  of  the  debate.  Nor  is  it  at  all  clear  how  the 
consciousness  of  freedom  could  ever  have  arisen  in  this 
negative  fashion.  The  conception  of  freedom  is  not  the 
same  as  ignorance  of  causation ;  and  if  we  suppose  the 
mind  to  think  only  under  the  law  of  causation  without 
positive  experience  of  freedom,  there  is  no  way  of  trans- 
forming simple  ignorance  of  causation  into  the  conception 
of  freedom.  And  if  there  were,  then  whenever  we  are 
ignorant  of  causation  we  ought  to  affirm  freedom,  which 
is  absurd.  We  are  then  shut  up,  first,  to  admitting  a  posi- 
tive consciousness  of  freedom,  and,  second,  to  declaring 
this  consciousness  to  be  delusive. 

Sundry  other  difficulties  exist  for  this  view.  To  begin 
with,  it  provides  only  for  positive  impulses,  whereas  nega- 
tive conceptions  may  decide  volition.  In  particular,  the 


226  PSYCHOLOGY. 

conception  that  an  object  is  unattainable  paralyzes  action, 
while  the  desire  may  be  even  intensified  by  this  knowledge. 
Facts  of  this  kind  admit  of  no  adjustment  to  the  theory.  In 
the  next  place,  the  theory  assumes  a  commensurability  of 
impulses  which  is  in  the  highest  degree  doubtful.  A  physi- 
cal appetite,  an  emotional  desire,  an  intellectual  conception, 
a  moral  conviction,  hardly  seem  to  be  commensurable  ele- 
ments. But  we  pass  over  its  psychological  foundation 
concerning  which  many  other  scruples  might  be  raised,  and 
call  attention  to  several  embarrassing  implications  :  — 

1.  If  the  theory  be  true,  action  must  follow  immediately 
upon  its  antecedents.  When  the  scales  are  loaded,  there  is 
no  hesitation,  no  deliberation ;  but  the  heavier  weight  be- 
gins at  once  to  sink.  When  two  or  more  mechanical  forces 
act  upon  a  body,  the  resultant  is  at  once  and  irrevocably 
declared.  If,  now,  volitional  action  is  to  be  brought  under 
such  mechanical  laws,  there  is  likewise  no  room  for  hesita- 
tion, or  deliberation,  or  comparison  of  consequences.  As 
well  might  a  mechanical  resultant  compare  the  component 
forces,  inquire  which  was  the  strongest,  and  finally  decide 
for  it.  Yet  all  determinists  have  allowed  a  power  of  think- 
ing twice,  of  reserving  decision,  of  refraining  from  action. 
But  if  this  be  a  real  power,  we  have  a  power  outside  of 
motives  and  impulses,  which  is  able  to  control  both  itself 
and  them.  If  we  say  it  controls  them  by  bringing  up  some 
other  motive,  that  only  affects  the  manner  of  control  and 
not  the  fact.  A  being  which  can  control  itself  through 
motives  must  have  control  over  the  motives ;  and  thus  the 
fact  of  self-determination  reappears,  though  in  a  special 
form.  But  if  this  be  denied,  the  appearance  of  deliberation, 
of  comparison  of  motives,  reasons,  etc.,  must  be  explained. 
It  cannot  be  explained  by  the  motives  in  consciousness,  for, 
by  hypothesis,  these,  if  left  to  themselves,  would  pass  at 
once  into  volition  and  action.  By  hypothesis,  also,  it  is 
not  due  to  any  self-control  of  the  mind.  We  must,*  then, 


WILL  AND  ACTION.  227 

feign  a  series  of  impulses  out  of  consciousness  to  account 
for  it ;  and  these  too  must  be  such  as  to  make  it  seem  as 
if  we  ourselves  were  controlling  in  the  matter. 

2.  But  this  conception,  if  followed  out,  would  lead  to 
scepticism  of  reason  itself.  Reasoning  similar  to  that  em- 
ployed in  discussing  the  materialistic  theory  of  knowledge 
would  show  that  no  system  of  necessity  can  construct  a 
theory  of  knowledge  and  of  error  which  shall  not  vanish 
into  hopeless  scepticism.  The  attainment  of  truth  implies 
the  existence  of  a  stdndard  of  truth  in  the  mind,  and  the 
possibility  of  directing  our  rational  activity  accordingly. 
The  one  thing  which  the  truth-seeker  must  be  on  his  guard 
against  is  the  tendency  to  conclude  hastily.  He  must,  then, 
test  his  facts,  criticise  his  processes,  repeat  his  arguments, 
tear  -asunder  the  misleading  conjunctions  of  association, 
and  reserve  his  assent  until  the  crystalline  and  necessary 
conjunctions  of  reason  are  reached.  Where  this  cannot  be 
done,  there  is  no  proper  rationality,  but  only  a  psychologi- 
cal succession  of  mental  states.  And  this  is  the  result  of 
the  theory  in  question.  One  conclusion  is  as  necessary  as 
another,  and  as  good  while  it  lasts.  Conclusions  are  not 
drawn  by  force  of  logic,  but  mental  states  are  called  up 
and  shifted  by  the  mental  mechanism.  There  is  no  longer 
any  distinction  between  truth  and  error;  and  everything 
sinks  to  the  mere  level  of  psychological  facts,  which  as 
such  are  neither  true  nor  false,  but  simply  real  or  unreal. 
However  we  work  the  theory,  we  shall  find  it  impossible 
to  establish  any  standard  of  distinction  between  truth  and 
error,  and  equally  impossible  to  use  it  if  we  had  it.  Free- 
dom is  no  less  necessary  to  rational  action  than  it  is  to 
moral  action.  Indeed,  the  purest  illustration  we  have  of 
self-determination  is  in  the  case  of  thinking.  We  direct 
and  maintain  attention,  we  criticise  every  step,  and  look 
before  and  after,  until  we  reach  the  rational  conclusion. 
And  there  is  the  advantage  in  considering  the  question  in 


228  PSYCHOLOGY. 

this  realm,  that  most  of  the  confusion  about  motives  is 
impossible  here. 

3.  The  theory  involves  the  denial  of  all  personal  respon- 
sibility.    Manifold  attempts  have  been  made  to  escape  this 
result ;  but  they  belong,  without  exception,  to  the  most  ab- 
ject and  ghastly  parodies  of  reasoning.     The  most  approved 
device  is  that  which  makes  conduct  depend  on  character ; 
but  the  speculator  generally  forgets  to  define  character, 
and  always  forgets  to  inquire  what  character  depends  on. 
Sometimes  it  is  claimed   that   our  moral  judgment  of  a 
person   depends  upon  what  lie  is,  no   matter  how  he  be- 
came so ;  but  this  overlooks  the  double  standard  of  moral 
judgments  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter.      Imperfection 
is  charged  upon  whatever  falls  below  the  ideal;  but  respon- 
sibility belongs  only  to  the  free. 

4.  We  have,  then,  a  theory  which  cannot  begin  without 
disparaging  the  common  consciousness  of  the  race,  and 
which  is  also  highly  unclear  in  its  psychological  basis.     In 
the  next  place,  it  cannot  go  on  without  assuming  a  variety 
of  impulses  of  which  nothing  is  known  except  by  hypothe- 
sis.    Further,  and  finally,  the  theory  is  forced  to  break 
down  reason  itself,  and  to  reject  the  universal  sense  of 
responsibility.     Plainly,  there  ought  to  be  very  weighty 
reasons  to  warrant  a  theory  like  this. 

The  denial  of  freedom  rests  entirely  upon  theoretical 
grounds.  These  are,  first,  the  impossibility  of  comprehend- 
ing free  action,  and,  second,  the  supposed  demands  of  the 
law  of  causation.  The  first  fact  makes  us  unwilling  to 
admit  freedom ;  the  second  seems  to  make  it  impossible. 

1.  As  cognitive  beings,  we  have  an  undoubted  interest  in 
explaining  all  events  according  to  some  system  of  general 
laws.  At  the  same  time  it  must  be  remembered  that  ex- 
planation cannot  extend  to  everything.  It  presupposes 
the  existence  of  a  set  of  facts  and  laws  which  furnish  the 
conditions  of  explanation.  These  have  to  be  taken  for 


WILL  AND  ACTION.  229 

granted  ;  and  a  demand  that  they  shall  be  explained  by  the 
processes  of  which  they  are  the  foundation  is  the  mark  of 
a  mind  not  in  full  possession  of  itself.  A  mania  for  ex- 
plaining makes  it  impossible  to  understand  the  nature  and 
conditions  of  explanation.  Since,  then,  the  very  nature  of 
explanation  refers  us  to  facts  and  processes  outside  of 
itself  as  its  own  foundation,  we  need  not  be  concerned  at 
finding  in  freedom  a  fact  which  admits  of  no  deduction  or 
comprehension, — a  fact  to  be  recognized  and  admitted,  not 
deduced  or  comprehended.  There  is  all  the  less  reason 
for  disturbance,  when  we  see  that  this  freedom  is  a  neces- 
sary implication  of  that  rational  activity  in  whose  interests 
explanation  itself  is  undertaken. 

2.  But  the  law  of  causation  contradicts  the  notion  of 
freedom ;  and,  as  the  former  is  a  necessity  of  thought,  the 
latter  must  be  given  up.  To  this  it  might  be  said  that  the 
contradiction  is  doubtful.  The  law  of  causation  says  sim- 
ply, For  every  event  seek  a  cause.  In  this  sense  a  free 
act  has  a  cause  as  much  as  any  other.  Its  cause  is  the  free 
spirit.  If  we  ask  what  caused  it  to  cause,  we  are  shut  up 
to  an  infinite  regress.  The  question,  Why  did  the  mind 
act  thus  ?  is  always  ambiguous.  It  may  mean,  What  were 
the  reasons  in  the  presence  of  which  the  mind  acted  ?  and 
it  may  mean,  What  caused  the  mind  to  act  thus  ?  The 
first  question  would  be  answered  by  recounting  the  reasons ; 
the  second  would  be  answered  by  the  libertarian  by  deny- 
ing that  anything  caused  the  mind  to  cause.  It  acted  out 
of  itself,  and  that  must  be  the  end  of  the  matter. 

It  may  be  objected  from  the  other  side,  that  this  does  not 
meet  the  demands  of  causation.  Freedom  supposes  a  cause 
which,  in  given  circumstances,  may  take  either  of  two  or 
more  directions  ;  and  hence  the  actual  direction  must  be 
causeless.  Here,  also,  there  is  a  certain  ambiguity,  in  that 
there  may  be  reasons  for  the  course  taken  in  the  presence 
of  which  the  mind  determined  its  action.  The  question 


230  PSYCHOLOGY. 

can  be  reduced  to  this  :  Does  the  law  of  causation  demand 
that  every  cause  must  be  uni-potential,  or  may  there  also 
be  pluri-potential  causes  ?  The  former  assumption  implies 
that  uniformity  in  causation  is  a  necessity  of  thought ;  and 
the  latter  implies  that  there  may  be  causes  which,  within 
certain  limits,  can  determine  their  own  direction.  The 
former  supposition  cannot  be  maintained  ;  and  the  latter 
cannot,  from  its  very  nature,  be  understood.  The  only 
sense  in  which  the  law  of  causation  is  an  absolute  law  of 
thought  is,  that  nothing  can  arise  from  nothing,  or  that 
nothing  can  ever  make  itself  into  something.  It  does  not 
decide  that  something  must  act  uniformly,  or  that  some- 
thing can  in  no  sense  determine  its  own  direction.  Causa- 
tion, as  uniformity  of  action,  is  a  postulate  of  our  cognitive 
activity,  but  not  a  necessary  principle.  The  question  of 
uniformity  or  non-uniformity  in  action  is  one  which  cannot 
be  speculatively  decided.  We  can  comprehend  the  one 
just  as  little  and  just  as  much  as  we  can  comprehend  the 
other.  The  insight  we  seem  to  possess  into  the  meta- 
physical possibility  or  impossibility  is  purely  fictitious. 

If,  however,  we  insist  on  taking  the  law  of  causation 
absolutely,  and  referring  every  event  to  a  determining  an- 
tecedent, the  law  is  seen  to  limit  itself.  Such  a  conception 
would  lead  to  an  infinite  regress,  in  which  the  law  of 
causation  itself  would  be  lost.  To  escape  this  every  sys- 
tem of  speculation  has  had  to  allow  an  uncaused  being  or 
series  of  beings,  which  simply  are  because  they  are.  The 
law  of  causation  has  no  application  to  them  in  their  exist- 
ence. Further,  it  is  necessary  to  admit  within  this  series, 
either  an  absolute  beginning  of  activity  and  movement,  or 
an  unbegun  activity  and  movement.  Of  this  also  the  law 
of  causation  could  give  no  account.  It,  too,  would  be  a 
fact  admitting  of  no  deduction,  but  only  of  recognition.  If, 
however,  the  law  of  causation  compels  the  admission  at  one 
point,  there  is  no  objection  of  principle  to  recognizing  such 


WILL  AND  ACTION.  231 

facts  anywhere  in  the  world  process,  if  experience  seems  to 
reveal  them.  The  very  utmost,  then,  that  the  speculative 
objections  to  freedom  can  lead  to,  would  be  a  drawn  battle ; 
and  the  practical  postulates  of  life  and  conscience  would 
turn  the  scale  in  favor  of  freedom. 

A  series  of  minor  objections  exists,  based  throughout  on 
misunderstanding.  First,  freedom  is  attributed  to  the  will, 
which  is  then  erected  into  an  independent  agent,  and  sep- 
arated from  both  intellect  and  conscience  and  character. 
Then  it  is  easy  to  show  that  the  action  of  the  will  must  be 
left  to  chance  or  caprice,  that  such  a  will  is  a  dangerous, 
rather  than  a  desirable  possession,  that  there  is  no  secu- 
rity that  it  will  not  at  any  moment  reverse  the  whole  tenor 
of  the  past  life,  etc.  This  is  only  a  bugbear  of  misunder- 
standing. If  anything  is  free,  it  is  the  soul,  and  not  the 
will ;  for  the  will  is  only  an  abstraction  from  the  volitional 
activity  of  the  soul.  And  this  free  soul  is  also  the  knowing, 
prevising,  ethical  soul.  It  can,  then,  estimate  motives  and 
reasons ;  it  can  foresee  consequences ;  it  can  compare  its 
principles  of  action  with  the  law  of  right.  Hence,  the  soul 
does  not  act  in  the  dark,  but  in  the  light.  When  it  is  ob- 
jected that  motives  have  weight,  it  seems  to  be  assumed 
that,  if  man  be  free,  motives  should  have  no  weight; 
whereas  a  free  man  who  is  also  rational  is  just  the  one 
who  will  give  every  motive  its  proper  weight.  Nor  does  it 
follow,  that  what  a  free  being  can  do,  that  he  must  do.  He 
can  be  arbitrary  and  capricious ;  but  he  need  -not  be  and 
ought  not  to  be.  He  can  be  inconsistent,  but  he  ought  not 
to  be  unless  the  consistency  is  in  evil. 

Nor  do  we  get  any  relief  from  these  things  by  invoking 
necessity.  For  in  any  case  men  are  what  they  are  ;  and 
they  are  arbitrary  and  capricious.  If  we  suppose  that  they 
are  so  by  necessity,  we  are  certainly  no  better  off  than 
when  we  suppose  that  they  have  the  power  to  do  better. 
Again,  good  men  often  do  fall  into  evil ;  and  hence  the 


232  PSYCHOLOGY. 

necessitarian  must  admit  that  necessity  contains  no  assur- 
ance of  consistency  of  character,  unless  we  have  an  insight 
into  the  content  or  direction  of  that  necessity.  Apart  from 
such  insight,  it  is  at  least  as  assuring  to  hold  that  we  can 
govern  ourselves  to  some  extent,  and  thus  can  maintain  our 
loyalty  to  righteousness,  as  it  is  to  hold  that  we  are  subject 
to  some  opaque  necessity  of  whose  content  and  direction 
we  know  nothing. 

In  theology  this  debate  has  often  taken  on  strange  forms 
for  dogmatic  reasons.  In  particular  a  distinction  has  been 
made  between  freedom  of  choice  and  freedom  of  willing ; 
and  determinism  has  been  placed  in  the  choice,  while  the 
will  has  been  left  free.  Our  choice  is  fatally  bound  by  our 
nature,  or  by  what  we  are ;  but  we  are  free  in  execution. 
Hence  the  doctrine  of  moral  inability  and  natural  ability. 
In  practical  life,  however,  this  doctrine  seems  to  invert  the 
difficulty.  Freedom  of  choice  does  not  seem  to  be  so  diffi- 
cult a  conception  ;  the  trouble  lies  entirely  in  realizing  our 
choice  in  life.  And  for  this  the  soul  must  be  able  to  in- 
tensify its  effort  until  it  bears  down  all  resistance.  In  our 
executive  inability  lies  the  weakness  of  life,  rather  than  in 
a  lack  of  power  to  choose  the  good. 

The  outcome  of  this  sketch  of  the  argument  is  this : 
(1.)  We  find  freedom  supported  by  a  somewhat  positive 
consciousness.  (2.)  We  find  it  also  implied  in  the  prin- 
ciples by  which  men  and  societies  live.  (3.)  We  find  its 
denial  leading  to  scepticism  of  reason  itself.  (4.)  Opposed 
to  these  facts  we  find  the  necessitarian  argument,  leading 
at  best  to  no  more  than  a  drawn  battle.  We  may  therefore 
decide  in  favor  of  freedom.  We  may  not  view  it  as  abso- 
lutely proved ;  yet  it  is  certainly  a  necessary  postulate  of 
reason  and  conscience,  and  as  such  we  hold  it. 

Volitional  activity  may  enter  to  some  extent  into  all  the 
mental  functions ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  some  factors  of 
the  mental  life  are  entirely  withdrawn  from  volitional  con- 


WILL  AND  ACTION.  233 

trol.  Thus  the  essential  nature  of  the  susceptibilities  and 
the  constitutional  activities  is  independent  of  volition.  The 
laws  of  mental  procedure  and  of  mental  change  and  combi- 
nation also  admit  of  no  volitional  control.  Such  are  the 
interactions  of  thought  and  feeling,  the  laws  of  formal 
thought,  and  the  judgments  of  conscience.  These  are  for- 
ever secure  from  volitional  modification.  These  laws  fur- 
nish a  basis  of  uniformity  of  which  the  free  soul  may  avail 
itself,  and  without  which  freedom  itself  becomes  meaning- 
less. Of  the  feelings  we  have  little  or  no  direct  control. 
We  govern  them  by  directing  our  attention  either  toward 
objects  connected  with  feelings  we  desire  to  arouse,  or  to- 
ward objects  connected  with  feelings  incompatible  with 
those  we  desire  to  repress.  In  the  intellectual  life  self- 
control  is  chiefly  manifested"  in  the  form  of  attention,  and 
the  guidance  of  our  cognitive  powers  toward  a  desired  end. 
Attention  may  be  non-volitional ;  but  in  all  earnest  effort 
it  is  volitional.  An  end  is  conceived,  and  our  cognitive 
activities  are  governed  with  reference  to  it.  So  in  all  sci- 
entific investigation  there  must  be  most  careful  and  per- 
sistent application  of  our  energies  and  the  most  watchful 
supervision  of  the  same.  Whatever  is  valuable  in  knowl- 
edge is  due  to  freedom.  This  of  course  does  not  mean 
that  the  mind  can  coerce  its  conclusions,  but  that  it  cannot 
reach  trustworthy  conclusions  without  strict  self-control. 
The  laws  of  thought  do  not  of  themselves  secure  obedience  ; 
otherwise  there  would  be  no  error.  In  addition  to  the  laws 
there  must  be  an  enforcement  of  them  by  the  mind  upon 
itself.  In  memory  volition  appears  in  a  voluntary  use  of 
the  laws  of  reproduction.  In  the  constructive  imagination 
the  mind  freely  combines  given  elements.  In  all  constitu- 
tional forms  of  activity  volition  enters  as  eliciting,  guid- 
ing, repressing,  according  to  laws  inherent  in  the  nature 
of  the  soul  itself.  Desultory  executive  volitions  need  no 
mention. 


234  PSYCHOLOGY. 

"We  see,  then,  that  our  freedom  is  far  from  absolute.  It 
is  limited,  on  the  one  hand,  by  our  mental  and  physical 
constitution ;  and,  on  the  other,  by  the  intensity  of  the  de- 
sires and  impulses  which  it  has*  to  control.  These  might 
be  so  intensified  as  to  execute  themselves  without  permis- 
sion from  the  will,  and  in  spite  of  it.  Within  these  limits 
freedom  has  its  realm ;  and  even  these  limits  are  not  fixed. 
The  outcome  of  volitional  action  is  habit,  fixed  disposition, 
settled  character.  The  soul  may  freely  bind  itself  with 
chains  which  it  can  never  undo.  Herein  lie  the  psycho- 
logical significance  of  probation  and  the  tragic  element  of 
freedom.  Freedom  may  choose  the  seed,  but  it  can  neither 
determine  nor  escape  the  harvest. 

This  limitation  of  our  freedom  demands  a  word  of  final 
emphasis.  There  is  an  automatic  as  well  as  a  voluntary 
element  in  human  activity ;  and  it  is  as  impossible  to  ex- 
clude the  former  as  it  is  to  deny  the  latter.  Corresponding 
to  the  one-sidedness  of  the  necessitarian  who  makes  au- 
tomatism all,  is  the  one-sidedness  of  the  libertarian  who 
makes  freedom  all.  Even  the  claim  that  motives  are  rea- 
sons, and  not  causal  or  dynamic,  cannot  be  unconditionally 
allowed ;  for  while  motives  as  conceptions  are  not  dynamic, 
motives  as  springing  from  or  expressing  impulses,  consti- 
tutional or  otherwise,  do  exercise  an  influence  upon  volition, 
and  may  even  defy  our  attempts  to  control  them.  There 
are  fixed  laws  within,  as  well  as  without ;  and  our  conquest 
of  mental  realms,  like  that  of  physical  realms,  depends 
upon  obedience  to  laws  which  we  find,  and  which  we  can 
neither  found  nor  abrogate. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND    SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.          235 


CHAPTER   VII. 

CONSCIOUSNESS    AND   SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 

IN  the  actual  mental  life,  all  its  factors  exist  in  complex 
synthesis  from  the  start.  In  our  study  of  that  life,  we 
must  consider  its  factors  successively,  and  one  by  one. 
The  discussion  of  consciousness  is  not  postponed  to  this 
point  because  consciousness  is  a  late  development  in  men- 
tal experience,  but  because  it  can  be  better  dealt  with  after 
some  study  of  the  general  factors  of  the  mental  life.  It  is 
not  the  psychologist's  affair  to  construct  the  mental  life, 
but  to  understand  it. 

Various  definitions  of  consciousness  have  been  given,  but 
they  all  reduce  to  tautology,  or  else  presuppose  the  thing 
defined.  Thus  Herbart  defines  consciousness  as  the  sum 
of  all  the  real  or  coexistent  present  representations ;  but 
the  phrase  "  real  and  present  representations  "  means  pre- 
cisely those  of  which  we  are  conscious ;  for  thereby  alohe 
are  they  constituted  real  and  present.  Consciousness  has 
been  further  defined  as  a  differentiating  activity ;  but  as 
differentiation  in  general  does  not  imply  consciousness, 
it  can  only  be  conscious  differentiation  which  is  con- 
sciousness. 

Again,  there  has  been  a  very  general  tendency  to  iden- 
tify consciousness  with  knowing,  so  that  to  know  and  to 
be  conscious  are  often  used  as  identical.  This  is  due  partly 
to  the  looseness  of  language,  and  partly  to  the  fact  that 
there  can  be  no  knowing  apart  from  consciousness,  and  no 
consciousness  without  some  knowing.  But  this  identifica- 
tion of  the  two  has  led  to  especial  difficulty  in  determining 
the  relation  of  consciousness  to  the  other  mental  facts  of 


236  PSYCHOLOGY. 

volition  and  sensibility ;  and  very  often  they  have  been 
allowed  to  exist  on  their  own  account,  and  we  are  supposed 
to  become  conscious  of  them  upon  occasion.  Others  have 
gone  still  further  in  this  direction,  and  have  separated 
knowing  itself  from  consciousness.  This  tendency  is  still 
further  strengthened  by  mistaking  the  classifications  of 
psychology  for  absolute  distinctions.  Hence,  because 
feeling  and  willing  are  treated  apart  from  knowing,  it  is 
assumed  that  they  may  exist  apart  from  knowing.  Con- 
sciousness is  even  erected  into  a  faculty  distinct  from  the 
rest,  and  having  the  function  of  inspecting  their  products. 
It  would  seem,  then,  that  we  know  by  the  faculty  of  know- 
ing, and  become  conscious  of  both  knowing  and  the  knowl- 
edge by  the  faculty  of  consciousness.  In  such  views, 
consciousness  appears  as  a  kind  of  addition  to  mental 
states  which  might  exist  in  their  completeness  apart  from 
it.  Those  especially  delight  in  this  view  who  hold  to  latent 
mental  modifications,  unconscious  cerebration,  etc. ;  and 
consciousness  almost  appears  at  times  as  a  disturbing  and1 
distracting  element,  rather  than  as  a  necessary  condition 
of  all  mental  states.  But  in  spite  of  manifold  assurances, 
it  is  quite  impossible  to  tell  what  is  left  when  the  element 
of  consciousness  is  dropped  out  of  a  mental  state.  Still 
others  have  defined  consciousness  as  the  knowledge  the 
soul  has  of  its  own  acts  and  states ;  but  this  view  also 
limits  consciousness  to  knowing,  and  supposes  other  men- 
tal states  to  exist  as  the  object  of  this  knowledge.  In 
order  to  save  the  definition,  we  might  point  out  that  the 
soul's  power  to  observe  objects  does  not  necessarily  imply 
the  power  to  observe  its  own  operations  ;  and  to  this  sec- 
ond power  we  might  give  the  name  of  consciousness.  But 
in  that  case  we  should  arbitrarily  limit  consciousness  to 
one  phase  of  knowing,  and  on  no  better  authority,  appar- 
ently, than  the  etymology  of  the  word. 

Led  by  these  considerations,  or  rather  warned  by  these 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.          237 

failures,  we  define  consciousness  as  the  specific  feature,  or 
condition,  of  all  mental  states;  not,  indeed,  as  something 
apart  from,  or  antecedent  to,  mental  states,  but  as  that 
clement  which  constitutes  them  mental  states.  It  is  that 
element  which  makes  an  act  of  knowing  knowing,  an  act 
of  feeling  feeling,  and  an  act  of  willing  willing.  It  is  not 
an  act  of  knowing,  nor  an  act  of  feeling,  nor  an  act  of 
willing,  hut  the  condition  of  all  alike  ;  or  that  factor  with- 
out which  they  could  not  exist.  Unconscious  knowing  and 
unconscious  willing  are  phrases  which  defy  all  interpreta- 
tion. It  is,  indeed,  possible  that  the  soul  may  perform 
many  unconscious  functions,  but  they  would  have  no  men- 
tal character. 

Consciousness,  then,  is  not  a  faculty  in  addition  to  other 
faculties,  but  an  implication  of  the  other  faculties.  It  is 
not  a  light  which  reveals  mental  processes  existing  in 
themselves,  but  is  rather  an  essential  property  of  those 
processes.  On  this  view,  the  field  of  consciousness  is  sim- 
ply that  of  immediate  experience  without  admixture  of 
inference.  It  does  not  extend  beyond  the  mental  states 
and  activities  themselves,  and  the  presentations  which  they 
mediate.  What  all  this  may  mean  admits  of  no  further 
definition ;  it  can  only  be  experienced.  The  impossibility 
of  deducing  consciousness  as  the  resultant  of  uncon- 
scious forces  has  already  been  dwelt  upon.  The  fact  ad- 
mits neither  of  deduction  nor  of  resolution  into  anything 
else. 

Much  of  the  uncertainty  just  dwelt  upon  rests  upon  the 
mistake  referred  to,  of  taking  the  classifications  of  psy- 
chology for  absolute  differences  in  the  mental  facts  them- 
selves. In  truth,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  pure  knowing 
without  admixture  of  sensitive  and  volitional  elements ; 
and  just  as  little  is  there  any  pure  feeling  or  willing  apart 
from  cognitive  elements.  The  simplest  mental  fact  is  com- 
plex ;  and  the  elements  into  which  we  break  it  up  in  our 


238  PSYCHOLOGY. 

analysis  are  only  the  different  phases  of  the  one  indivisible 
conscious  state. 

But  though  consciousness  can  be  neither  defined  nor  de- 
duced, its  conditions  may  be  studied.  The  general  form 
under  which  consciousness  exists  is  that  of  the  antithesis 
of  subject  and  object ;  that  is,  the  object  of  which  we  are 
conscious  must  be  distinguished  from  self  as  its  subject, 
and  objectified  to  self  either  as  its  state  or  act,  or  as  a 
quality  of  external  things.  When  this  primal  distinction 
is  sharply  made,  we  have  a  clear  consciousness ;  when  it  is 
vaguely  made,  we  have  an  indefinite  consciousness  ;  and 
when  it  is  altogether  lacking,  we  have  nothing  that  can  be 
called  consciousness  at  all.  For  to  be  conscious,  we  must 
be  conscious  of  something ;  and  we  are  conscious  of  that 
something  only  as  we  distinguish  it  from  self,  and  place  it 
over  against  self  as  our  object. 

This  point  has  been  much  disputed,  but  mostly  on  parti- 
san grounds.  It  is  plain  that  our  personal  experience  can 
never  justify  the  denial,  as  we  can  by  no  possibility  have  a 
conscious  experience  which  is  not  known  as  our  own.  No 
more  can  any  observation  of  others  ever  reveal  the  inner 
structure  of  their  consciousness,  as  such  structure  is  hidden 
to  external  observation.  The  question  must  be  decided, 
then,  on  theoretical  grounds. 

Because  of  the  exigencies  of  the  sensational  philosophy, 
the  claim  has  been  made  that  a  purely  sensitive  conscious- 
ness is  possible,  which  contains  no  reference  to  either  sub- 
ject or  object,  but  is  simply  itself.  These  references  come 
later  as  the  result  of  associated  experiences.  Our  experi- 
ence is  said  to  fall  into  two  groups,  one  of  vivid,  and  one 
of  faint  experiences.  The  former  comes  from  the  object ; 
the  latter,  from  the  subject.  But  these  two  groups  are 
only  gradually  formed  and  distinguished,  through  the  coa- 
lescence of  like  experiences,  and  the  separation  of  unlike. 
Up  to  this  time  there  is  neither  subject  nor  object,  but  only 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.         239 

particular  feelings.  Out  of  these,  association  builds  up  the 
conception  of  both  subject  and  object.  The  claim  is  un- 
tenable, for  the  following  reasons. 

Such  units  of  conscious  feeling  could  never  constitute  a 
unitary  consciousness.  If  «,  b,  c,  d,  e  represent  the  several 
conscious  states,  they  fall  entirely  asunder  so  long  as  the 
conscious  self  is  not  added.  The  consciousness  of  a  is  not 
that  of  b.  Moreover,  the  series  being  in  time,  it  perishes 
as  soon  as  it  is  born.  In  short,  we  have  states  of  con- 
sciousness, but  no  consciousness  of  states ;  and  a  proper 
consciousness  is  possible,  not  as  a  -series  of  states  of  con- 
sciousness, but  only  as  a  consciousness  of  states.  But  in 
order  to  the  latter,  there  must  be  an  abiding  subject  of  the 
series,  and  one  which  discriminates  itself  from  the  series. 
Only  as  the  states  are  discriminated  from  self  as  their 
subject,  and  are  united  in  the  various  rational  relations, 
does  any  intelligible  consciousness  arise.  The  truth  in 
the  sensationalists'  claim  is,  that  these  acts  of  discrimina- 
tion may  be  more  or  less  definitely  performed,  and  hence 
consciousness  may  be  more  or  less  distinct  and  compre- 
hensive ;  but  they  are  implicit  in  every  act  of  conscious- 
ness. Where  they  are  entirely  lacking,  there  is  nothing 
which  can  be  called  consciousness,  but  only  a  mechanical 
reflex  activity.  • 

Consciousness  admits  of  various  degrees,  because  the 
function  on  which  it  depends  may  be  more  or  less  defi- 
nitely performed.  The  lowest  range  of  consciousness  of 
which  anything  is  known  is  that  which  exists  when  drop- 
ping off  to  sleep,  or  that  of  objects  which  affect  our  senses 
when  our  attention  is  otherwise  directed.  In  these  cases 
consciousness  approaches  a  vanishing  point,  and  often 
reaches  and  passes  it.  The  objects  exist  for  us  only  as 
a  vague  objectivity  without  definite  significance.  They 
emerge  from  this  state  only  by  a  voluntary  or  involuntary 
direction  of  our  attention  toward  them.  If  now  we  choose 


240  PSYCHOLOGY. 

to  call  this  state  unconscious,  and  reserve  the  name  of 
consciousness  only  for  clear  or  distinct  consciousness,  we 
should  say  that  very  many  mental  states  exist  below  con- 
sciousness. This  has  often  been  done,  and  the  theory 
maintained  that  we  may  have  manifold  sensations  and 
feelings  without  being  conscious  of  them.  But  this  is 
simply  the  extravagance  of  confounding  a  vague  and  im- 
perfect consciousness  with  none  ;  the  truth  being,  that  we 
have  vague  and  unobtrusive  sensations  without  directing 
our  attention  to  them.  This  lower  limit  of  consciousness 
does  not  admit  of  being  definitely  fixed. 

Our  attention  may  be  directed  to  the  different  factors  of 
consciousness,  to  the  neglect  of  the  others.  Thus  we  may 
confine  our  attention  to  the  object,  or  to  the  subject,  or  to 
the  object  in  relation  to  the  subject.  This  fact  has  given 
rise  to  the  distinction  of  consciousness  and  self-conscious- 
ness, of  perception  and  apperception.  But  this  also  is  an 
extravagance.  There  is  no  consciousness,  or  perception, 
without  some  element  of  self-consciousness  or  apperception. 
When  we  perceive  something,  we  at  least  know  who  it  is 
that  perceives  ;  and  when  we  lose  ourselves  in  an  object,  we 
always  know  who  it  is  that  is  lost.  The  antithesis  of  sub- 
ject and  object  never  vanishes,  but  one  member  is  dwelt 
upon  rather  than  the  other.  A  great  deal  of  what  is  called 
self-consciousness  is  simply  a  consideration  of  objects  and 
aims  in  their  relation  to  self.  When  we  say  that  we  not 
only  know  or  feel,  but  we  know  that  we  know  or  feel,  the 
truth  is  merely  that  we  make  the  fact  of  knowing  or  feel- 
ing the  object  of  our  attention. 

Attention  is  a  condition  of  rational  consciousness.  When 
the  sensibility  is  affected  without  fixing  our  attention,  only 
a  vague  and  indefinite  consciousness  results.  But  the  sig- 
nificance of  attention  is  double.  Attention  may  mean 
simply  the  direction  of  our  activity  toward  a  given  object. 
In  this  sense  it  is  a  form  of  self-determination,  and  is  a 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.  241 

condition  of  mental  action.  But  the  significance  of  atten- 
tion for  consciousness  consists  quite  as  much  in  the  kind 
of  activity  as  in  its  direction.  Attention  as  a  simple 
staring  at  our  objects  leads  to  nothing.  To  reach  a  clear 
rational  consciousness,  we  must  establish  relations  among 
our  objects  and  assimilate  them  to  one  another ;  and  thus 
our  attention  leads  to  new  knowledge,  or  to  a  clearer  per- 
ception or  comprehension  of  our  objects.  We  can  fix  our 
attention  continuously  upon  an.  object  only  on  condition 
that  we  continuously  find  something  new  in  it,  either  by 
making  new  distinctions  or  by  establishing  new  relations. 
When  this  is  not  the  case,t  we  become  mentally  paralyzed  by 
the  fixed  stare,  and  thought  comes  to  a  stand-still.  Atten- 
tion, then,  runs  right  into  the  rational,  or  relating,  activity 
of  the  mind ;  and  this  it  is  which  has  such  high  significance 
for  consciousness. 

Consciousness  depends  on  the  distinction  of  subject  and 
object ;  but  this  distinction  alone  would  give  only  a  vague 
objectivity,  without  any  rational  content.  Consciousness 
emerges  from  this  confused  state  only  as  the  mind  estab- 
lishes rational  relations  among  its  objects.  To  see  the 
significance  of  this  relating  activity  for  consciousness,  we 
need  only  drop  out  the  rational  relations  from  our  objects. 
With  the  vanishing  of  temporal  distinctions  all  our  objects 
flow  together  into  a  confused  present.  With  the  vanishing 
of  space  relations  there  is  nothing  but  an  indistinguish- 
able objectivity  left.  With  the  conception  of  causation  all 
dependence  vanishes  ;  and  such  consciousness  as  might 
remain  would  be  as  meaningless  as  a  language  composed 
of  interjections.  A  rational  consciousness  is  possible  only 
through  the  relating  activity  of  the  mind,- whereby  it  consti- 
tutes its  objects  in  rational  relations.  If,  then,  we  should 
allow  the  possibility  of  a  simple  sensitive  consciousness  as 
a  consciousness  of  the  first  order,  we  should  have  to  affirm 
a  higher  rational  consciousness  as  a  consciousness  of  the 

16 


242  PSYCHOLOGY. 

second  order.  The  fact,  however,  is  rather  that  conscious- 
ness admits  of  varying  degrees  of  clearness  according 
as  the  functions  upon  which  it  depends  are  more  or  less 
definitely  performed. 

It  is  the  range  of  this  relating  activity  which  determines 
the  limits  of  consciousness.  We  can  grasp  a  plurality  of 
objects  only  on  condition  of  being  allowed  to  relate  them, 
and  thus  to  unite  them.  And  here  the  categories  which 
are  norms  of  distinction  are  also  principles  of  unification. 
Things  distinguished  in  time,  space,  number,  etc.,  are  at 
the  same  time  united  by  those  relations.  Number  in  par- 
ticular is  the  great  unifier,  whereby  a  plurality  is  made 
amenable  to  our  intellect.  The  idle  question  has  often 
been  raised  whether  we  can  be  conscious  of  more  than  one 
thing  at  a  time.  It  is  plain  that,  if  we  could  not  be,  a 
rational  life  would  be  impossible.  No  relation  can  be 
established  with  only  one  object,  and  without  relations 
there  is  no  thought.  Of  course  the  question  vanishes  if 
time  itself,  instead  of  being  an  independent  duration  in 
which  thought  occurs,  is  really  only  the  form  of  our 
experience. 

The  claim  that  consciousness  depends  on  the  antithesis 
of  subject  and  object  has  been  variously  misunderstood. 
In  particular,  it  has  been  taken  to  mean  that  the  subject 
and  object  are  ontologically  distinct.  Hence  it  has  been 
argued  that  idealism  is  certainly  false,  as  that  doctrine 
denies  the  object.  Hamilton  especially  argued  that  con- 
sciousness embraces  both  subject  and  object,  and  hence 
that  both  are  given  as  equally  real.  But  this  claim  con- 
founds a  mental  function  with  an  ontological  distinction. 
The  object  of  consciousness  is  never  the  outer  world,  for 
consciousness  extends  only  to  our  own  states  and  acts. 
It  is  always  and  only  our  representations  of  which  we  are 
conscious  in  dealing  with  the  outer  world.  These  may 
represent  an  outer  world ;  but  in  any  case  our  conscious- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.         243 

ness  extends  only  to  our  thought  of  that  world.  We  have 
the  same  form  of  objectivity  in  dreams,  where  there  is  no 
thought  of  an  ontological  otherness  ;  and  yet  the  object  in 
,  waking  perception  is  not  projected  outward  with  more  self- 
evidence  than  obtains  in  many  dreams.  The  same  error 
has  been  used  to  prove  that  the  Infinite  cannot  be  con- 
scious ;  since  to  be  conscious  there  must  be  an  independent 
object,  while  the  Infinite  as  one  and  only  can  have  no 
object  beyond  himself.  On  the  same  ground  self-conscious- 
ness has  been  declared  a  contradiction ;  for  if  the  self  be 
the  subject,  it  has  no  object ;  and  if  it  be  the  object,  it  has 
no  subject.  All  of  this  quibbling  disappears  upon  remem- 
bering that  the  distinction  of  subject  and  object  represents 
primarily  the  form  under  which  consciousness  takes  place, 
and  not  any  ontological  separation  between  them. 

It  is  a  very  general  conviction  that  self-consciousness  is 
a  late  development  of  the  mental  life,  and  many  deductions 
thereof  abound  in  the  associational  psychology.  "We  are 
said  to  live  a  conscious  mental  life  long  before  we  live  a 
self-conscious  life ;  and  thus  self-consciousness  is  explained 
as  a  late  result  of  experience.  Even  the  intuitional  psy- 
chologists differ  on  this  point,  some  claiming  that  we  have 
immediate  consciousness  of  self,  and  others  that  the  self 
is  known  only  by  inference.  Materialists  and  many  sensa- 
tionalists claim  that  the  self  is  nothing  but  a  name  .for  the 
sum  of  mental  states.  These  cluster  together  and  thus 
constitute  the  self.  In  these  claims  we  have  some  extrava- 
gance, some  ambiguity,  and  considerable  nonsense.  We 
deal  with  the  last  first. 

The  reality  of  the  self  has  already  been  established  in 
Chapter  I.,  and  we  refer  only  briefly  to  the  subject  liere. 
Let  a,  b,  c,  d,  e,  etc.  be  the  mental  states  whose  sum  is  to 
constitute  the  idea  of  self.  For  whom  does  this  sum  exist  ? 
For  a  ?  or  for  b  ?  If  for  a,  or  for  any  other  member  of  the 
series,  then  that  member  is  more  than  a  mental  state,  for 


244  PSYCHOLOGY. 

it  must  be  able  to  be  conscious  of  itself  and  of  all  the 
others,  and  must  be  able  to  distinguish  them  from  itself 
and  from  one  another,  and  also  to  unite  the  others  in  its 
single  thoughts  of  their  sum.  But  if  a,  b,  c,  etc.  are 
simply  mental  states,  they  never  become  a  sum,  or  even 
a  series.  Each  remains  an  isolated  unit  of  consciousness, 
and  a  rational  consciousness  never  begins.  The  attempt 
to  construe  the  self  as  merely  a  cluster  of  mental  states 
breaks  down  before  the  fact  that  even  a  cluster  cannot 
be  known  as  a  cluster  except  by  some  unit  which  compre- 
hends them  all. 

Two  elements  are  to  be  distinguished  in  self-conscious- 
ness, (1.)  our  thought,  or  conception,  of  ourselves,  and 
(2.)  our  experience  of  our  thoughts,  etc.  as  our  own.  The 
former  element  is  developed  and  variable;  the  latter  is 
original  and  constant.  The  conceptions  we  form  of  our- 
selves are  manifestly  acquired  like  our  conceptions  of  any 
other  object ;  and  this  conception,  like  all  others,  may  be 
more  or  less  accurate. 

With  children,  and  with  many  besides,  the  body  is  iden- 
tified with  the  self.  Our  body  enters  into  all  our  ex- 
periences, either  as  affected  or  at  least  as  present.  In 
particular,  it  is  the  seat  of  a,  great  mass  of  feelings  of  pain 
and  pleasure,  and,  with  those  who  have  no  higher  feel- 
ings, the  body  will  not  fail  to  be  viewed  aa  the  self.  But 
the  facts  of  death  and  of  the  religious  nature  soon  led 
the  race  to  a  different  conception,  according  to  which  the 
soul  is  something  distinct  from  the  body  and  able  to  live 
aparl;  from  it ;  and  yet  even  here  the  attempt  to  picture 
this  view  always  results  in  conceiving  a  physical  form  with 
the  physical  attributes  of  the  actual  body,  though  in  a 
somewhat  sublimated  form.  And  after  all  the  utterances 
of  the  philosophers,  nothing  is  more  common  than  for  us 
to  wonder  what  we  are,  whether  a  passing  bubble  on  the 
ocean  of  existence  or  an  abiding  essence.  These  facts 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND   SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.         245 

show  clearly  that  our  conception  of  self  is  a  variable  one, 
and  that  it  is  least  of  all  an  original  and  constant  datum 
of  consciousness.  Even  yet  it  is  not  complete,  as  appears 
from  the  oft-repeated  question,  What  are  we  ?  It  not  only 
does  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be  ;  it  does  not  even 
appear  what  we  are.  If  complete  self-knowledge  were 
given  in  immediate  consciousness,  this  could  not  be  the 
case.  In  this  sense,  then,  the  idea  and  knowledge  of  self 
are  developed,  and  the  history  of  the  idea  can  be  given. 

But  this  conceptual  self-knowledge  is  by  no  means  iden- 
tical with  self-consciousness ;  indeed,  we  can  conceive  a 
mind  to  have  the  fullest  conceptual  knowledge  of  itself, 
and  yet  have  no  proper  self-consciousness  at  all.  It  might 
have  all  the  categories  of  the  reason,  and  might  know  that 
every  mental  state  must  have  a  subject  and  that  every 
thought  must  have  a  thinker,  and  still  have  no  self-con- 
sciousness. Nor  should  we  get  on  if  we  endowed  this  be- 
ing with  perfect  knowledge  of  all  existence.  In  that  case 
it  would  discover  a  great  many  minds,  and  itself  among  the 
rest.  It  would  also  discover  one  of  these  minds  to  be  the 
same  mind  which  was  thinking  of  all  these  other  minds ; 
but  its  knowledge  would  carry  it  no  further.  Its  concep- 
tion of  itself  would  be  just  as  objective  and  indifferent  as 
its  conception  of  all  others ;  and  there  would  be  nothing 
in  its  experience  to  explain  that  peculiar  intimacy  and 
vividness  of  self-consciousness  which  makes  each  mind 
for  itself,  not  merely  a  specimen  of  a  class,  but  a  special 
case  which  puts  all  other  things  and  persons  into  absolute 
antithesis  to  itself.  For  every  individual,  the  world  falls 
into  two  members,  himself  and  all  other  things  and  per- 
sons :  and  this  antithesis  admits  of  no  inversion.  We  may 
think  of  others  with  thoughts  and  experiences  like  our 
own  ;  but  these  conceptions  lack  entirely  the  vividness  and 
reality  of  our  experience  of  ourselves.  The  personality 
of  others  we  merely  conceive ;  our  own  personality  we 


246  PSYCHOLOGY. 

experience.  Our  mind  is  not  merely  a  mind;  it  is  our 
mind.  The  simple  categories  of  the  intellect  would  affirm 
only  a  mind  ;  we  pass  from  a  mind  to  our  mind,  because 
we  do  not  merely  grasp  ourselves  in  conception,  but  also 
realize  ourselves  in  immediate  experience.  It  is  this  self- 
experience  which  attends  all  our  mental  states  which 
interprets  to  us  what  is  meant  by  our;  and  if  it  were  lack- 
ing there  would  be  no  way  of  telling  what  is  meant  thereby. 
This  self-experience  is  the  original  and  irreducible  factor 
of  self-consciousness.  It  is  in  the  life  of  feeling,  desire, 
emotion,  interest,  that  selfhood  acquires  any  vividness  and 
reality. 

No  deduction  of  this  self-experience  is  possible.  It  is 
something  unique,  and  can  be  understood  only  in  terms  of 
itself.  Some  materialists  have  urged  that  self-conscious- 
ness is  explained  by  the  movement  of  the  brain  molecules 
in  paths  which  return  upon  themselves.  The  source  of 
this  folly  is  evident.  Self-consciousness  may  be  called  a 
reflection  of  consciousness  upon  itself,  and  hence  a  move- 
ment returning  upon  itself  might,  in  extremely  gross  minds, 
pass  as  an  explanation  of  self-consciousness.  Scarcely  bet- 
ter are  the  various  philosophical  accounts  which  teach  that 
self-consciousness  arises  only  through  an  outgoing  activity 
of  the  self,  which,  meeting  the  non-self,  is  reflected  back  into 
the  self  again.  This  is  entirely  unintelligible  except  as  a 
highly  figurative  way  of  describing  self-consciousness,  and, 
if  allowed  as  a  fact,  we  should  not  have  self-consciousness, 
but  simply  an  emitted  and  reflected  activity.  To  call  this 
self-consciousness  is  an  abuse  of  language. 

Equally  unsuccessful  are  the  attempts  to  deduce  the  idea 
from  the  interaction  of  other  ideas.  Many  striking  things 
are  said  of  "  conception  masses,"  which  represent  the  self, 
and  which,  by  repelling  or  assimilating  new  experiences, 
produce  all  the  phenomena  of  self-consciousness.  Such 
utterances  belong  to  the  department  of  psychological  my- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.          247 

thology.  The  "  conception  masses,"  having  by  hypothesis 
no  subject,  could  never  attain  to  a  rational  consciousness 
of  any  sort.  They  but  illustrate  the  too  familiar  fact  that 
we  easily  mistake  abstract  fictions  for  things.  Equally 
hopeless  is  the  claim  that  we  reach  self-consciousness  by 
inferences  from  our  mental  states.  The  difficulty  is,  that 
such  inference  must  be  either  from  our  mental  states,  or 
from  mental  states  not  known  to  be  ours.  In  the  former 
case,  there  would  be  no  need  of  inference,  and  in  the  latter 
case  we  should  come  to  a  knowledge  only  of  a  self  and  not 
of  my  self.  Hence  we  hold  that  self-consciousness  rests  on 
an  immediate  experience  of  self.  This  self-experience  is 
the  raw  material  out  of  which  our  developed  conceptions  of 
self  are  wrought.  Experience  does  not  intensify  it,  but 
only  furnishes  us  with  clearer  ideas  whereby  to  interpret 
it.  The  small  child,  who  has  not  the  least  idea  of  self  and 
not-self  as  formal  conceptions,  has  yet  the  liveliest  experi- 
ence of  itself  in  its  feelings  of  pain  and  pleasure.  We  con- 
clude, then,  that  all  consciousness  of  which  anything  can 
be  said  has  in  it  this  element  of  self-experience,  and  that 
this  element  is  primal  and  undeducible.  The  self  does 
not  stand  behind  experience  as  its  mysterious  noumenal 
ground  to  be  reached  only  by  inference,  but  reveals  itself 
as  present  in  experience.  We  have  neither  an  abstract 
consciousness  of  self,  nor  only  a  consciousness  of  mental 
states,  but  a  consciousness  of  self  as  having  states. 

This  distinction  of  the  experience  of  self  from  the  con- 
ception of  self  enables  us  to  adjust  a  dispute  of  long  stand- 
ing in  psychology.  The  question  is  raised  whether  we 
have  direct  consciousness  of  the  ego,  and  both  sides  are 
taken.  Against  the  affirmative,  it  is  urged  that  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  ego  is  purely  a  matter  of  inference  from  states 
of  consciousness.  What  the  ego  is,  is  known  by  studying 
its  phenomena,  just  as  the  nature  of  hydrogen  is  learned 
by  studying  its  phenomena.  It  is  further  urged,  that  we 


PSYCHOLOGY. 

are  not  conscious  that  the  ego  is  a  substance  at  all ;  as  is 
shown  by  the  possibility  of  materialism.  This  seems  to 
make  out  a  case  for  the  negative  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  urged  that  no  consciousness  exists  without  an  implicit 
reference  to  self  as  its  subject.  We  are  not  conscious  of- 
thoughts  and  feelings,  but  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings. 
It  is,  then,  nothing  strange  that  we  succeed  in  deducing 
self-consciousness  when  we  start  with  it.  This  seems  to 
make  out  a  case  for  the  affirmative.  That  these  two  views 
do  not  apply  to  the  same  factor  of  self-consciousness  is 
apparent.  The  first  claim  is  valid  for  our  conception  of 
the  nature  of  self;  the  second  is  valid  for  our  immediate 
experience  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings  as  our  own. 

Self-consciousness  may  remain  on  the  lowest  level  of 
self-experience;  and  it  may  advance  from  this  to  a  dis- 
tinct conception  of  self,  and  to  an  affirmation  of  self  as  the 
controlling  subject  of  experience.  Only  in  that  case  would 
self-consciousness  be  perfect.  This  state  is  reached  only 
as  the  mind  comes  into  reflective  self-possession  and  self- 
control.  In  childhood  there  is  an  abundance  of  self-experi- 
ence, but  no  reflective  self-knowledge.  The  idea  of  self 
does  not  appear  as  a  central  idea  in  the  mental  life,  and 
the  mind  is  absorbed  in  its  objects,  or  in  its  experiences 
of  pleasure  or  pain.  Even  in  our  mature  human  life,  self- 
consciousness  often  remains  on  the  level  of  self-experience, 
without  any  distinct  reflection  upon  self  as  the  subject  of 
our  experience,  and  even  without  much  reflection  upon  the 
nature  of  our  activity  in  general.  In  this  state  of  mind  we 
often  do  and  say  things  without  any  true  sense  of  their 
significance ;  and  afterwards,  upon  reflection,  we  are  hardly 
able  to  conceive  the  deed  or  word  as  our  own.  In  the 
delirium  of  passion  this  is  very  common ;  and  the  man 
is  said  to  forget  himself,  or  to  be  beside  himself,  etc.  If 
now  we  should  decide  to  call  only  developed  and  perfect 
self-consciousness  self-consciousness,  it  would  be  true  that 


CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.          249 

self-consciousness  is  a  late  development  of  the  mental  life, 
and  that  it  may  even  fail  altogether.  But  this  would  be 
the  extravagance  already  referred  to.  The  facts  show 
simply,  not  that  either  element  of  subject  or  object  may  be 
absent  from  consciousness,  but  that  the  mind  may  direct 
its  attention  to  either  to  the  neglect  of  the  other,  or  rather 
that  consciousness  may  be  focused  upon  either  of  its  ele- 
ments, according  to  our  interest  at  the  time.  It  is  possible 
that,  in  the  case  of  the  lower  animals,  self-consciousness 
may  remain  permanently  on  the  level  of  simple  self-experi- 
ence without  further  rationalization  of  that  experience. 

The  experience  of  self  is  primal.  The  conception  of  self 
is  secondary.  The  latter  is  reached  like  all  other  concep- 
tions, and  may  be  more  or  less  adequate.  Here  is  the 
place  for  the  fine  psychological  observation,  that  children 
are  slow  in  learning  the  use  of  the  personal  pronoun  of  the 
first  person ;  for  though  not  clearly  relevant,  it  is  always 
charming.  The  bringing  out  of  the  idea  of  self  into  clear 
consciousness  as  the  centre  of  the  mental  life  is,  indeed,  a 
slow  process.  In  childhood,  this  conception  seems  lacking. 
There  is  self-feeling  or  self-experience ;  but  the  self  has 
not  been  clearly  set  over  against  its  objects  and  activities 
as  their  subject  and  controlling  source.  "When  this  is 
done,  we  have  the  consciousness  of  freedom,  a  fact  which 
explains  the  claim  often  made,  that  to  be  self-conscious  is 
to  be  free.  In  such  developed  self-consciousness  the  soul 
is  aware  of  its  aims  and  ideals,  and  directs  its  activities 
accordingly. 

Developed  self-consciousness  is  subject  to  various  dis- 
turbances. In  the  delirium  of  fever  or  of  passion,  the 
mental  states  may  break  from  control,  and  hinder  the  func- 
tion upon  which  clear  self-consciousness  depends.  Again, 
the  feeling  connected  with  mental  states  varies,  and  espe- 
cially our  interest  in  objects.  In  cases  of  mental  disease, 
disturbances  of  feeling  sometimes  occur,  which  make  the 


250  PSYCHOLOGY. 

person  seein  strange  to  himself.  Profound  apathy,  also, 
can  arise,  which  causes  everything  to  seein  foreign  to  the 
mind,  as  a  paralyzed  limb  to  the  body.  This  does  not 
imply  an  absolute  ignorance  of  self  as  the  subject  of  the 
experience,  but  only  a  profound  indifference,  in  which  all 
self-interest  has  vanished.  And  as  it  is  the  life  of  feeling 

D 

which  gives  any  vividness  to  selfhood,  disturbance  of  the 
former  must  affect  the  latter. 

Herewith  we  close  our  study  of  the  factors  of  the  mental 
life.  The  aim  has  not  been  to  exhibit  these  factors  in 
combination,  but  to  show  the  factors  themselves.  Con- 
cerning them  a  double  error  is  possible.  On  the  one  hand, 
we  have  an  attempt  to  reduce  these  factors  to  some  com- 
mon form ;  and  on  the  other,  we  have  a  tendency  to  regard 
them  as  distinct  entities.  The  former  appears  in  the  sen- 
sationalists' deductions,  and  the  latter  in  the  traditional 
doctrine  of  the  faculties.  Both  errors  are  to  be  guarded 
against.  The  transformations  of  sensationalism  are  purely 
verbal ;  and  we  have  to  assume  a  complex  mental  nature 
to  account  for  the  complex  mental  life.  But  we  are  not  to 
suppose  that  this  complex  nature  is  made  out  of  a  bundle 
of  independent  faculties.  The  faculties  are  always  and 
only  abstractions  from  the  many-sided  mental  life.  This 
life  is  the  reality.  Here  and  here  only  do  the  reason,  the 
will,  the  intellect,  the  understanding,  the  sensibility,  have 
their  existence  ;  and  all  alike  represent  only  phases  of  this 
basal  life. 


PART   II. 

THE  FACTORS  IN   COMBINATION 


PART    II. 

THE   FACTORS   IN   COMBINATION. 


CHAPTER   I. 
PERCEPTION. 

WE  have  studied  thus  far  the  elementary  factors  and 
processes  of  the  mental  life  without  any  reference  to  their 
products  and  combinations.  These  we  have  now  to  con- 
sider ;  and  first  we  deal  with  perception.  This  has  often 
been  regarded  as  a  simple  and  unanalyzable  form  of  mental 
activity ;  whereas  it  is  really  a  process  into  which  all  forms 
of  mental  activity  enter  to  a  greater  or  less  degree.  Will 
enters  in  the  form  of  attention.  Thought  contributes  its 
categories,  and  the  sensibility  furnishes  the  raw  material. 
Even  reproduction  plays  an  important  part,  as  we  shall  see. 
Essentially,  perception  is  a  process  of  rationalizing  sensa- 
tion, or  an  application  of  the  categories  to  the  raw  material 
of  sensation.  In  this  way  the  mind  reaches  the  world  of 
things.  This  is  the  thesis  to  be  established. 

When  two  persons  converse,  no  thoughts  leave  the  mind 
of  the  one  and  enter  bodily  into  the  mind  of  the  other. 
The  nervous  action  and  vibrating  waves  of  air  which  inter- 
vene contain  no  thought.  How,  then,  is  an  exchange  of 
thought  possible  ? 

All  thought  of  transmission  except  in  a  figurative  sense 
is  impossible.  The  fact  is  this.  By  an  entirely  mysterious 
world-order  the  speaker  is  enabled  to  produce  a  series  of 
sensations  in  the  hearer  which  are  totally  unlike  thought, 


254 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


but  which  by  virtue  of  the  same  mysterious  world-order 
act  as  a  series  of  incitements  upon  the  hearer,  so  that  he 
constructs  in  his  own  consciousness  the  corresponding 
thought.  The  act  of  the  speaker  is  in  availing  himself  of 
the  proper  incitements,  that  of  the  hearer  is  primarily  the 
reaction  of  the  soul  against  the  incitement.  Hence,  to  per- 
ceive another's  thought  we  must  construct  it  in  ourselves ; 
and  to  inform  another  of  our  thought  is  not  to  pass  some- 
thing over  to  him,  but  to  incite  him  to  a  form  of  mental 
action  like  our  own.  All  communication  of  finite  minds  is 
of  this  sort.  Instruction  and  education  of  every  kind  con- 
sist, not  in  pouring  ready-made  knowledge  into  the  mind, 
but  in  directing  its  activity  so  that  it  shall  develop  knowl- 
edge within  itself.  The  wisest  teacher  can  do  ho  more 
than  avail  himself  of  the  system  of  incitements  which  the 
world-order  provides,  and  then  trust  to  the  student's  mind 
to  react  against  incitement  with  growing  thought  and  in- 
sight. Thoughts  are  not  things  which  can  be  handed  along 
ready  made,  they  are  rather  mental  functions ;  the  only 
way  in  which  a  thought  can  be  put  into  a  mind  is  to  stimu- 
late it  to  perform  the  corresponding  function. 

What  is  thus  true  of  the  perception  of  another's  thought 
is  equally  true  of  our  perception  of  the  outer  world  in  gen- 
eral. To  perceive  the  universe  we  must  construct  it  in 
thought ;  and  our  knowledge  of  the  universe  is  but  an  un- 
folding of  the  mind's  inner  nature,  a  reaction  of  the  mind 
against  external  action.  The  mere  existence  of  a  thing  is 

o 

no  ground  for  our  perception  of  it  on  any  theory ;  it  must 
in  some  way  act  upon  us.  If  we  might  personify  the  uni- 
verse, and  attribute  to  it  a  desire  to  pass  into  human  knowl- 
edge or  to  appear  in  the  human  mind,  we  should  say  that 
it  must  proceed  as  a  human  teacher  does.  The  latter  avails 
himself  of  a  system  of  excitations  whereby  he  incites  the 
mind  of  the  student  to  unfold  itself  and  develop  knowledge 
within  itself.  All  the  while  he  is  putting  nothing  in,  but 


PERCEPTION.  255 

is  leading  the  mind  out  into  possession  of  itself.  In  the 
same  way  must  the  universe  proceed.  It  can  put  nothing 
into  the  mind  except  by  inciting  the  mind  to  special  forms 
of  activity,  which  in  turn  are  only  expressions  of  the  mind's 
own  nature.  The  grounds  of  this  conclusion  lie  in  the  no- 
tion of  interaction  and  in  the  physiological  facts  concerning 
perception.  We  consider  them  in  order. 

For  us  the  soul  is  a  real  agent,  and  all  perception  rests 
upon  an  interaction  between  the  soul  and  the  world  of 
things.  But  in  all  interaction,  when  one  thing  acts  upon 
another  it  contributes  nothing,  but  merely  furnishes  the 
conditions  of  the  other's  action  or  manifestation.  Least  of 
all  can  the  cause  of  an  effect  be  laid  in  only  one  of  the 
things.  Thus,  a  ray  of  light  falls  upon  ice,  upon  a  mixture 
of  hydrogen  and  chlorine,  and  upon  the  eye.  In  the  first 
case  melting  results ;  in  the  second,  explosion ;  and  in  the 
third,  a  sensation.  Here  the  antecedent  is  the  same  in  all 
the  cases  ;  the  difference  of  the  consequents  must  be  at- 
tributed to  the  nature  of  the  things  acted  upon  ;  and  the 
effect  in  each  case  can  be  viewed  only  as  a  manifestation  of 
the  peculiar  nature  of  those  things,  and  not  as  something 
carried  into  them.  What  is  thus  true  of  all  interaction  is 
true  of  that  between  the  soul  and  the  world  of  things.  The 
reaction  of  the  soul  in  such  cases  represents  nothing  poured 
into  it  from  without,  but  is  rather  an  expression  of  what 
the  soul  is.  But  perception  depends  upon  such  an  inter- 
action, and  hence  we  cannot  find  the  sufficient  ground  of 
our  knowledge  in  the  object,  as  is  often  done,  but  must 
rather  hold  that  the  resulting  knowledge  is  an  expression 
of  the  nature  of  the  mind  itself.  The  external  action,  here 
as  elsewhere,  only  furnishes  the  incitement  which  leads  to 
a  peculiar  reaction  on  the  part  of  the  soul  in  which  the 
soul  manifests  itself. 

The  physiological  facts  connected  with  perception  lead 
to  the  same  conclusion.  Things  have  often  been  spoken  of 


256  PSYCHOLOGY. 

as  stamping,  impressing,  photographing,  themselves  upon 
the  mind  ;  and  these  figures  of  speech  have  been  taken  for 
explanations.  But  to  see  their  purely  verbal  character  we 
need  only  ask  (1.)  where  these  stamps,  etc.  are;  (2.)  where 
the  extended  mind  is  that  receives  them ;  and  (3.)  how 
these  pictures  on  the  mind  become  thoughts  in  the  mind. 
If  we  should  allow  the  grotesque  fancy  that  things  really 
stamp  themselves  upon  the  mind  as  an  extended  substance, 
the  perceptive  act  would  be  as  far  from  being  explained 
as  ever.  We  should  have  outlines  on  the  mind,  but  no 
thoughts  in  the  mind  ;  these  would  be  reached  only  as  the 
mind,  by  an  inner  act,  changed  the  stamp,  or  image,  into 
conception.  The  strength  of  such  figures  of  speech  lies  in 
the  fact  that  we  regard  the  knowing  mind  as  something 
objective  to  ourselves.  Accordingly,  when  we  figure  the 
mind  as  a  tablet  with  pictures  on  it,  we  also  think  of  our- 
selves as  looking  at  the  picture  ;  and  then  we  mistake  our 
imagined  perception  of  the  picture  for  its  perception  by  the 
impressed  mind.  But  all  these  whims  disappear  when  we 
remember  the  conditions  of  perception.  On  the  most  real- 
istic theory,  nervous  action  is  the  medium  of  all  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  outer  world ;  and  this  contains  neither  thoughts 
nor  pictures.  It  is  totally  unlike  the  world  of  things,  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  world  of  thoughts,  on  the  other.  No 
reflection  upon  it  will  claw  out  of  it  either  the  external 
thing  or  the  internal  thought.  A  printed  page  contains  no 
thoughts ;  these  arise  only  as  some  mind  appears  which 
can  read  the  page  back  into  its  significance.  Likewise 
nervous  action  contains  no  knowledge ;  this  can  arise  only 
as  this  action  is  upon  some  mind  which  can  read  back  the 
nervous  sign  into  its  objective  significance.  But  to  do  this 
the  mind  must  have  the  principle  of  interpretation  in  itself. 
It  has  no  standard  or  pattern  by  which  to  go,  for  the  ner- 
vous action  is  all  the  outer  world  contributes,  and  this  the 
mind  has  to  read  back  into  a  world  of  things.  But  in  so 


PERCEPTION.  257 

doing,  it  is  only  reacting  against  external  stimulus  and 
unfolding  its  own  nature.  Our  world  vision  is  primarily  a 
product  of  the  mind  under  external  incitement.  Whether 
it  truly  represents  the  outer  fact  is  a  question  for  separate 
discussion ;  but  in  any  case  our  knowledge,  such  as  it  is,  is 
gained  in  this  way.  It  is  not  a  passive  importation  into 
the  mind,  but  is  developed  by  the  mind  within  itself.  ' 

Psychologists  of  the  common-sense  school  have  sought 
to  evade  this  conclusion  by  speaking  of  an  immediate 
knowledge,  or  a  direct  gaze  on  reality.  Supposing  the  fact 
to  exist,  the  question  still  remains,  How  is  this  immediate 
knowledge  possible  ?  The  things  may  be  there  just  as  we 
conceive  them ;  but  their  existence  does  not  explain  our 
perception.  Things,  too,  do  not  throw  off  images  or  phan- 
toms of  themselves,  as  the  scholastics  thought,  which  enter 
into  the  mind  and  mediate  knowledge.  The  impressions 
on  the  retina  or  on  the  surface  of  the  body,  likewise,  do  not 
explain  the  fact.  The  only  answer  is  that  which  we  have 
given.  Things  act  upon  the  mind,  and  the  mind  reacts  by 
constructing  in  itself  the  thought  of  an  object,  and  affirm- 
ing the  object  as  a  reality  ;  and  this  constitutes  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  thing.  Mediate  knowledge  in  sense  perception 
is  that  gained  by  inference,  as  in  the  acquired  perceptions  ; 
and  immediate  knowledge  can  only  mean  such  knowledge 
as  results  directly  from  the  interaction  of  the  mind  with 
the  object.  But  this  implies  no  passive  reception  of  ready- 
made  knowledge ;  but  only  a  spontaneous  development  of 
knowledge  by  the  mind  under  the  proper  conditions.  In- 
deed, the  psychologists  of  this  school  have  formed  their 
theory  less  from  a  study  of  the  facts  than  from  a  pre- 
determination to  avoid  anything  which  might  lend  aid  and 
comfort  to  idealism.  This  is  especially  the  case  with 
Hamilton's  theory  of  immediate  perception.  In  his  desire 
to  have  no  go-betweens  in  perception,  he  was  forced  to 
maintain  that  every  sensation  is  really  felt  where  it  seems 

17 


258  PSYCHOLOGY. 

to  be,  and  hence  that  the  mind  fills  out  the  entire  body. 
Likewise  he  had  to  affirm  that  the  object  in  vision  is  not 
the  thing,  but  the  rays  of  light,  and  even  the  object  itself 
had,  at  last,  to  be  brought  bodily  into  consciousness.  Thus 
he  reached  the  absurdity  that  the  true  object  in  perception 
is  something  of  which  we  are  totally  unconscious. 

This,  then,  is  the  way  in  which  our  world  vision  is  built 
up.  Sensations  are  produced  in  us,  and  associate  accord- 
ing to  certain  laws.  The  mind  next  reacts  upon  these  by 
classifying  and  distinguishing  them,  and  finally  objectifies 
them  under  the  forms  of  fepace  and  time,  of  cause  and 
effect,  and  of  substance  and  attribute.  Our  objectified 
representations  constitute  for  us  the  external  world.  This 
does  not  forbid  that  the  world  may  be  as  real  as  common 
sense  assumes ;  it  only  points  out  that  to  perceive  the 
outer  world  we  must  think  it,  or  construct  it  in  thought. 
The  mind  can  never  grasp  the  object  other  than  through 
the  conception ;  and  the  object  exists  for  the  mind  only 
through  the  conception.  Hence  our  knowledge  of  the 
outer  world  arises  only  as  we  form  certain  conceptions  and 
objectify  their  contents  in  independent  existence. 

Concerning  the  reality  of  the  knowledge  thus  gained,  we 
here  say  nothing.  We  are  considering  perception  as  a  psy- 
chological process,  and  leave  the  inquiry  into  the  validity 
of  its  results  to  the  theory  of  knowledge.  We  point  out, 
however,  that  if  our  objective  knowledge  is  valid,  we  must 
assume  that  the  laws  of  thought  are  parallel  to  those  of 
things.  Since  the  thing  is  known  only  through  our  con- 
ception, and  since  in  forming  this  conception  the  mind 
follows  strictly  its  own  laws,  it  follows  that  the  validity  of 
the  conception  implies  that  the  laws  of  thought  and  those 
of  being  are  parallel.  We  must  further  assume  that  there 
is  a  fixed  relation  between  the  antecedents  of  sensation  and 
the  nature  of  things,  on  the  one  hand,  and  between  those 
antecedents  and  the  thought  activity  on  the  other.  That 


PERCEPTION.  259 

is,  if  knowledge  be  of  the  fact,  then  the  activity  which 
produces  sensations  must  be  adjusted  to  the  fact,  and  must 
arouse  the  mind  to  an  activity  whicli  shall  reproduce  the 
fact  in  thought.  Without  this  assumption  of  an  exact 
adjustment  of  heterogeneous  elements,  there  can  be  no 
trust  in  perception. 

But  how  in  that  case  can  error  occur  ?  Manifestly  we 
cannot  place  any  trust  in  perception  without  assuming  a 
fixed  order  of  interaction  between  the  subject  and  object ; 
but  if  there  be  such  an  order,  how  can  error  arise  ?  This 
question  can  be  answered  only  by  assuming  that  the  fixed 
order  extends  only  to  the  elements  of  the  interaction ;  and 
that  these  elements  may  be  united  either  by  association  or 
by  arbitrariness  in  ways  whicli  are  foreign  to  the  truth  of 
things. 

Thus  far  we  have  only  sought  to  determine  our  general 
conception  of  the  perceptive  process,  without  describing  it 
in  detail.  It  is  conceivable  that  all  perception  should  be 
immediate,  so  that  the  rational  interpretation  of  our  sen- 
sations should  be  instantaneous,  and  independent  of  in- 
ference and  experience.  The  relation  between  the  object 
and  the  mind  might  be  such  that  we  should  at  once  per- 
ceive it  as  it  is  and  where  it  is.  But  this  is  not  the  case. 
We  learn  to  perceive.  The  interpretation  of  our  sense 
experience  into  a  world  of  things  of  fixed  nature  and  in 
definite  relations  is  a  gradual  process ;  and  very  much  of 
it  rests  upon  an  automatic  interpretation  of  sense  signs 
which  we  have  learned.  A  history,  then,  of  the  perceptive 
process  is  conceivably  possible ;  but  unfortunately  it  is 
hard  to  write.  We  learn  to  perceive  long  before  we  reflect 
upon  the  process ;  and  by  the  time  reflection  begins,  the 
process  has  become  so  familiar  that  its  steps  are  no  longer 
visible.  The  factors  which  enter  into  it  can  be  discovered 
by  analysis  of  the  product ;  but  the  genetic  stages  are  not 
manifest.  The  details  of  how  we  come  to  refer  our  sensa- 


260  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tions  to  definite  objects  in  space,  either  as  their  qualities  or 
as  caused  by  them,  must,  then,  be  matters  mainly  of  sur- 
mise and  guesswork.  In  our  mature  life  all  our  sensa- 
tional experiences  are  immediately  referred  to  things  in 
time  and  space,  and  this  fact  leads  us  to  fancy  that  it 
always  has  been  so,  and  it  also  makes  it  difficult  to  assign 
to  the  several  senses  their  significance  for  the  process. 

The  perception  of  things  and  that  of  space  relations 
grow  together.  Things  first  become  things  for  the  mind 
when  individuated  in  space*;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  as 
soon  as  things  are  distinguished  in  space  relations  they 
appear  as  things.  We  have  already  pointed  out  that  not 
all  sensations  are  equally  efficient  in  arousing  the  mind 
to  a  spatial  projection  of  its  objects ;  but  it  is  not  easy  to 
decide  the  efficiency  of  the  several  senses.  Tastes,  sounds, 
and  odors,  in  themselves,  locate  their  objects  very  faintly,  if 
at  all.  There  is  little  difficulty  in  abstracting  from  space 
relations  in  their  case,  and  confining  ourselves  to  their 
purely  qualitative  significance.  If  they  have  any  power  in 
themselves  to  cause  a  localization,  it  seems  to  be  only  a 
reference  to  the  part  of  the  organism  which  is  affected. 

Sight,  touch,  and  the  muscular  sensations  attending  move- 
ment, are  much  more  effective ;  though  it  is  impossible  to 
tell  to  what  extent  they  affect  one  another.  What  we  need 
to  know  is  whether  sight  alone,  or  touch  alone,  or  muscular 
sensations  alone,  would  give  us  any  developed  conception 
of  space.  It  seems  that  a  staring  eye  which  could  not  move 
would  give  us  little  or  no  knowledge  of  space  relations ; 
and  the  other  senses  without  the  aid  of  the  eye  would  never 
enable  us  to  grasp  our  objects  in  a  common  space  with  any- 
thing like  the  clearness  of  actual  experience.  Indeed,  we 
find  it  impossible  to  grasp  the  space  relations  of  a  mani- 
fold in  a  common  intuition,  unless  it  be  presented  in  vision. 
We  lose  .the  beginning  before  we  come  to  the  end.  Hence 
it  is  often  claimed  that  with  the  blind  an  involved  set  of 


PERCEPTION.  261 

temporal  conceptions  takes  the  place  of  space  relations ; 
but  this  claim  is  disproved  by  the  existence  of  blind  ge- 
ometricians. They  must  possess  the  elements  of  the  space 
intuition ;  but  the  total  image  of  space  is  probably  very 
imperfect. 

In  actual  experience,  our  various  external  senses  work 
together,  and  may  be  aided  by  changes  in  the  brain  itself 
due  to  our  various  movements.  One  general  assumption, 
however,  must  be  made  ;  namely,  that  sensations  cannot 
be  interpreted  into  any  and  every  space  form,  but  that  there 
is  a  fixed  relation  between  a  given  form  of  sensation  and 
its  spatial  interpretation.  This  is  simply  an  application  of 
ihe  notion  of  law  or  uniformity  to  the  process,  without 
which  there  would  be  no  fixed  connection  between  any 
object  and  our  perception  of  it.  What  at  one  time  appears 
as  round  might  at  another  appear  as  square,  etc. 

Various  attempts  have  been  made  to  adjust  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  several  senses  for  the  spatial  localization  of 
our  objects,  but  with  no  very  great  success.  The  common- 
sense  philosophers  take  the  fact  for  granted,  without  asking 
how.  A  wide-spread  view  is  that  the  elements  of  space  are 
first  learned  from  touch  and  movement,  and  that  these  are 
extended  and  completed  by  connection  with  the  eye.  Others, 
again,  seek  to  vindicate  an  original  localizing  power  for  the 
eye  itself.  Still  others  think  that  all  our  senses  may  have 
such  a  power  in  some  degree.  For  the  perception  of  the 
extension  of  our  body  a  doctrine  of  local  signs  has  been 
proposed,  according  to  which  every  sensation  from  any 
part  has  a  local  coloring,  whereby  it  is  distinguished  from 
all  the  rest,  and  may  be  located.  But  the  doctrine  is 
plainly  of  no  use  until  the  perception  of  extension  has 
taken  place.  Until  then  the  local  signs  are  simply  quali- 
tatively distinct  sensations,  without  any  hint  of  their  spa- 
tial origin.  We  are  not  anxious  to  decide  among  these 
various  theories.  The  fact  is,  that  the  localization  did  not 


262  PSYCHOLOGY. 

take  place  instantaneously  with  the  first  sense  experience, 
and  that  it  takes  place  with  much  greater  rapidity  and 
accuracy  through  some  of  the  senses  than  through  others. 
But  it  could  not  take  place  at  all,  and  our  space  experi- 
ence in  general  would  be  impossible,  if  certain  forms  of 
sensation  were  not  attended  with  fixed  elements  of  spatial 
construction. 

The  strict  solution  of  this  question  of  localizing  power  in 
the  different  senses  is  not  to  be  expected.  Before  observa- 
tion begins,  the  localization  has  taken  place ;  and  either 
from  association  or  from  original  power  the  objects  of  all 
the  senses  have  received  a  local  reference.  Thereafter  it 
is  impossible  to  isolate  any  sense  so  as  to  get  its  unalloyed 
product.  Nor  can  much  weight  be  laid  upon  the  pathologi- 
cal observations  upon  persons  who  were  born  blind  and 
received  their  sight  in  later  years.  In  such  cases  it  would 
be  hard  to  prove  that  the  eye  itself  is  in  an  optically  per- 
fect state ;  indeed,  the  probability  would  be  for  the  negative. 
But  admitting  the  fact,  the  only  conclusion  would  be  that 
the  eye  is  not  able  at  once  and  finally  to  locate  its  objects 
apart  from  all  previous  experience.  It  would  by  no  means 
prove  that  the  eye,  when  exposed  to  such  changes  as  motion 
would  produce,  would  not  finally  excite  the  mind  to  a  de- 
veloped and  complete  image  of  objects  in  their  space  rela- 
tions. If  we  could  have  a  human  being  made  to  order,  and 
were  permitted  to  furnish  him  successively  with  the  several 
senses,  we  should  get  on  with  the  problem ;  but  this  can 
hardly  be  called  a  probable  contingency. 

Perception  is  not  complete  until  its  objects  are  assimi- 
lated and  classified.  If  the  mind  simply  projected  its  ob- 
jects under  the  general  categories  without  any  further 
classification,  thought  would  still  be  in  its  rudimentary 
form.  We  should  have  objects  in  general,  but  nothing 
defined  and  specific.  Our  objects  pass  from  this  vague 
generality  to  definite  content  only  through  classification. 


PERCEPTION.  263 

We  cognize  the  thing  by  recognizing  it,  that  is,  by  referring 
it  to  a  known  class.  If  an  object  is  presented  to  us,  our 
first  effort  is  to  tell  what  it  is ;  and  if  we  can  refer  it  to 
some  class,  we  feel  that  our  knowledge  is  increased.  When 
this  cannot  be  done,  the  thing  remains  for  us  an  indefinite 
object,  under  some  one  of  the  categories.  To  see  the  sig- 
nificance of  this  classificatory  element,  we  need  only  remem- 
ber that  all  the  terms  of  a  language,  except  the  interjections, 
are  general  terms.  Hence,  to  name  anything,  or  to  apply 
any  term  whatever  to  it,  is  an  act  of  classification.  The 
completed  perceptive  process,  then,  involves  classification 
as  one  of  its  essential  factors. 

The  total  result  of  the  perceptive  process  is,  that  the 
mind  forms  a  conception  of  a  manifold  of  objects  in  space 
relations,  and  having  various  sense  qualities ;  and  thereafter 
the  object  of  perception  is  not  the  thing  as  it  appears,  but 
the  thing  as  it  exists  for  thought.  Thenceforth  there  is  a 
distinction  between  the  appearance  and  the  thing  signified. 
The  appearance  of  any  object  varies  with  our  distance  from 
it,  and  changes  constantly  as  we  approach  or  leave  it.  The 
mind,  however,  passes  spontaneously  to  the  conception  of 
the  thing  as  existing  in  a  self-identity  in  space,  and  never 
dreams  of  confounding  the  changing  appearance  with  the 
constant  thing.  From  this  time  on,  the  appearance  is  con- 
nected with  the  thing  as  its  symbol,  and  the  mind  passes, 
not  by  inference,  but  by  association,  from  the  symbol  to  the 
thing.  Thus  in  painting  we  seem  to  see  the  thing,  and  in 
speech  we  seem  to  hear  the  meaning ;  whereas  the  mean- 
ing in  both  cases  is  something  added  by  the  mind  through 
an  automatic  connection  of  the  sign  .with  the  thing  signi- 
fied. If  we  should  allow  the  mind  to  add  nothing,  and 
should  limit  it  strictly  to  what  the  senses  give,  we  should 
have  neither  identity  nor  constancy  in  our  objects,  as  the 
sense  appearance  is  perpetually  shifting. 

The  clearness  with  which  our  objects  stand  out  before 


264  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  mind  in  perception  varies  with  the  distinctness  of  the 
sensations  produced,  in  us ;  and  we  learn  by  experience 
that  this  distinctness  is  itself  a  function  of  the  size  and 
distance  of  the  objects.  It  is  this  general  fact  which  gives 
rise  to  the  so-called  acquired  perceptions.  Perceptions  of 
size  and  distance  are  not  immediately  given  in  sensation, 
but  are  reached,  either  automatically  through  association, 
or  inferentially  through  judgment.  Hence  they  are  said  to 
be  acquired.  The  simple  fact  is,  that  we  learn  by  experi- 
ence to  estimate  the  spatial  significance  of  many  forms  of 
sensation. 

At  this  point,  also,  emerges  the  possibility  of  sense  illu- 
sions. The  senses  themselves,  as  giving  us  only  affec- 
tions of  self,  can  never  deceive  us.  Such  affections  are 
neither  true  nor  false,  but  simple  facts  of  consciousness. 
Delusion  first  becomes  possible  when  we  refer  the  affection 
to  its  causes,  or  when  we  seek  to  interpret  its  objective 
significance.  -We  first  find  in  experience  a  given  sensation 
referred  to  a  certain  objective  ground,  and  connected  with 
others  as  possible.  When  this  order  is  once  established, 
any  factor  of  it  is  sure  to  suggest  all  the  rest.  Hence,  when 
any  sensation  which  we  have  been  accustomed  to  associate 
with  a  given  thing  is  produced,  we  always  perceive  the  thing 
which  in  our  normal  experience  goes  with  that  sensation. 
But  the  sensation  may  be  produced  by  disease  or  imagina- 
tion, without  the  customary  external  stimulus.  In  all  such 
cases  we  have  sense  illusions,  and  seem  to  see  something 
where  there  is  nothing  to  see.  Delusions  of  this  kind  are 
impossible  until  sense  experience  has  acquired  some  con- 
sistency and  fixedness ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  experience 
could  never  acquire  any  fixedness  if  cases  of  this  kind 
were  frequent.  The  more  common  cases  of  sense  illusion 
are  those  connected  with  our  perception  of  size  and  dis- 
tance. In  experience  our  perception  of  size  and  distance 
is  connected  with  a  peculiar  quality  of  the  visual  appear- 


PERCEPTION.  265 

ance,  and  hence  whatever  affects  the  latter  affects  the 
former. 

It  is  impossible,  however,  entirely  to  absolve  the  senses; 
for  though  in  the  strict  sense  they  do  not  deceive  us,  they 
are  well  adapted  to  deceive  us. '  That  is,  the  appearance  is 
presented  in  such  a  way  that  illusion  is  almost  unavoidable. 
If  we  accept  the  current  doctrine  of  the  subjectivity  of 
sense  qualities,  our  entire  sense  experience  is  a  continu- 
ous and  gigantic  illusion.  Minor  illusions  are  found  in  the 
distortions  of  perspective,  the  vision  of  complementary  col- 
ors, etc.  The  general  untrustworthiness  of  the  senses, 
within  certain  limits,  is  an  axiom  in  physics.  Here  the 
first  aim  is  to  reach  some  objective  standard  which  shall 
free  us  from  the  uncertainty  of  subjective  estimates. 

In  speaking  of  association,  we  said  that  there  was  a  time 
when  the  representations  of  the  different  senses  had  no 
connection.  There  is  nothing  in  the  vision  of  color  to 
suggest  any  of  the  sensations  of  touch,  odor,  etc.  Their 
actual  union  is  brought  about  by  experience,  and  its 
method  is  highly  obscure.  It  is  conceivable  that  the  per- 
cepts of  the  different  senses  should  never  have  been  united 
into  a  common  object  with  various  sense  qualities;  and 
it  is  not  easy  to  tell  how  the  composition  is  effected.  But 
after  it  has  been  brought  about,  and  after  the  eye  has  been 
taught,  the  eye  becomes  the  chief  organ  of  knowledge. 
Thus  the  object  of  vision  becomes,  not  what  the  eye  sees, 
but  what  the  mind  sees  or  the  eye  suggests.  The  eye  can 
really  see  only  different  colors  and  outlines ;  but  we  pass 
so  immediately  from  these  to  what  they  suggest,  that  we 
seem  to  see  the  thing  signified.  In  actual  perception,  what 
the  eye  gives  is  as  different  from  what  the  mind  sees  as 
it  is  in  painting  or  drawing.  This  general  fact,  which 
was  first  brought  out  into  clearness  by  Berkeley,  in  his 
"New  Theory  of  Vision,"  helps  us  to  explain  many  prob- 
lems which  otherwise  would  remain  great  puzzles. 


266  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  upright  perception  of  objects. 
It  is  well  known  that  the  rays  of  light  must  form  an  in- 
verted picture  on  the  retina,  and  hence  it  has  been  con- 
cluded that  we  ought  to  see  all  objects  upside*  down.  But 
as  we  do  not  thus  see  them1,  the  fact  of  upright  vision  be- 
comes a  problem.  It  has  been  suggested,  (1.)  that  the 
mind  follows  the  rays  outside  of  the  eye  beyond  their 
crossing  point,  thus  righting  up  the  object,  and  (2.)  that, 
because  everything  is  inverted  in  the  picture,  we  do  not  see 
anything  so  inverted.  But  apart  from  the  difficulty  that 
the  mind  knows  nothing  of  rays  of  light,  etc.,  all  this  rests 
on  the  assumption  that  the  mind  looks  at  the  picture  on 
the  retina,  which  is  a  pure  whim.  There  is  in  such  notions 
so  coarse  an  identification  of  the  soul  with  the  body,  that 
it  is  strange,  as  Lotze  has  suggested,  that  no  one  has 
thought  of  turning  the  soul  end  for  end,  thus  by  a  double 
inversion  restoring  the  object  to  correct  position.  The  fact 
is,  that  the  object  is  not  perceived  by  the  eye  at  all ;  but, 
from  our  total  experience  of  the  several  senses,  the  mind 
constructs  an  object  in  space  with  various  properties  and 
relations,  and  certain  visual  sensations  come  to  stand  as  a 
sign  of  this  object.  This  object  is  what  the  mind  sees,  not 
the  visual  percept.  Berkeley  himself  contended  that  the 
tactual  percept  is  the  real  object  in  perception,  and  that 
the  visual  sensation  is  only  the  sign  of  the  same.  The 
truth  is,  that  the  mental  object  is  neither  the  visual  nor 
the  tactual  percept,  but  the  conception  which  the  mind  has 
built  out  of  its  past  experience,  and  of  which  either  may 
serve  as  the  sign. 

A  second  series  of  problems  concerns  our  estimate  of 
distance  from  vision.  Here,  too,  the  geometers  appeared 
with  the  doctrine  of  visual  angles  formed  by  rays  of  light, 
and  thought  thus  to  explain  the  problem.  But  the  same 
difficulty  appears.  The  mind  knows  nothing  directly  of 
rays  of  light  and  visual  angles ;  and  it  is  absurd  to  suppose 


PERCEPTION.  267 

the  mind  to  infer  distance  from  data  of  which  it  knows 
nothing.  But  this  also  admits  of  easy  explanation.  In 
common  experience,  dimness  or  confusion  of  visual  sen- 
sations represents  distance.  We  learn  this  by  experience 
alone ;  but  when  learned,  such  dimness  becomes  a  sign  and 
measure  of  distance.  We  find,  the  size  of  the  object  being 
fixed,  that  clearness  of  the  visual  perception  varies  directly 
with  the  distance ;  and  we  further  find,  the  distance  being 
fixed,  that  the  clearness  varies  with  the  size  of  the  object. 
Hence,  the  same  object  often  looks  nearer,  or  larger,  at 
one  time  than  another.  This  is  especially  the  case  with 
the  moon,  and  the  fact  was  long  a  standing  puzzle  with 
the  geometers.  The  reason  is,  that  the  moon,  near  the 
horizon,  owing  to  the  denser  medium,  seems  dimmer  than 
when  overhead,  and  hence  seems  to  be  farther  away,  and 
hence  seems  bigger.  In  this  case  the  effect  of  association 
is  such  as  apparently  to  modify  the  visual  perception.  In 
some  cases,  association  even  produces  outright  the  visual 
perception;  for  example,  in  speaking  or  reading,  missing 
words  or  sounds  are  often  supplied  without  any  sense  of 
their  absence.  That  is,  they  are  apparently  heard  or  seen, 
because  we  know  from  experience  what  to  expect. 

Because  of  the  constructive  activity  in  perception,  many 
have  called  it  a  process  of  inference  or  judgment.  But  it 
is  plainly  not  a  process  of  conscious  inference,  and  so  they 
have  called  it  unconscious  inference.  The  soul  uncon- 
sciously infers  from  its  sense  data  the  existence  of  those 
objects  which  correspond  to  them  in  its  normal  experience. 
It  is  plain  that  there  might  be  an  inferential  process  based 
on  sensations,  but  it  is  equally  plain  that,  in  general,  there 
is  none.  Unconscious  inference  is  a  phrase  in  which  the 
adjective  devours  the  noun,  and  the  noun  annihilates  the 
adjective.  Nor  do  we  need  any  such  contradictory  notions. 
The  primal  activity  in  perception  comes  under  the  head  of 
interaction,  according  to  a  law  fixed  in  the  nature  of  the 


268  PSYCHOLOGY. 

interacting  agents ;  and  the  facts  with  which  we  have  just 
been  dealing  come  under  the  well-known  laws  of  associa- 
tion or  suggestion.  There  is  simply  an  automatic  passage 
from  sensations  to  conceptions  which  have  been  connected 
with  them  in  past  experience. 

The  objective  perception  may  be  the  affection  of  the 
particular  sense,  and  it  may  be  what  the  mind  perceives 
through  that  affection.  In  general,  it  is  the  latter.  The 
object  is  not  what  the  eye  sees,  but  what  the  mind  sees. 
This  object,  however,  is  presented  to  the  mind  by  its  repro- 
ductive activity.  Just  as  the  meaning  of  spoken  words  is 
not  heard  by  the  ear,  but  by  the  mind,  and  just  as  this 
meaning  is  evoked  by  the  spoken  word  only  by  the  laws  of 
association,  so  the  object  before  the  mind  is  not  perceived 
by  any  or  all  the  senses,  but  by  the  mind  only,  and  so  also 
this  object  is  brought  before  the  mind  upon  occasion  of  the 
sense  experience  only  by  the  laws  of  association.  It  fol- 
lows, that  perception  is  no  simple  process,  but  a  highly 
complex  one,  in  which  the  representative  faculties  are  more 
active  than  the  presentative.  In  any  developed  mental  life, 
the  past  is  more  active  than  the  present,  even  in  our  appar- 
ently immediate  perceptions.  The  significance  of  classifi- 
cation has  been  already  referred  to. 

In  leaving  this  subject,  reference  may  be  made  to  a  set 
of  cases  in  which  the  constructive  action  of  the  mind  in 
perception  is  very  apparent.  These  are  the  cases  of  the 
deaf  and  dumb.  Here  the  normal  incitements  to  mental 
action  are  lacking ;  but  others  have  been  devised,  whereby 
the  mind  is  put  in  possession  of  itself  and  of  the  outer 
world.  The  most  notable  case  is  that  of  Laura  Bridgman. 
With  the  blind,  also,  touch  almost  takes  on  the  character 
of  a  new  sense  through  the  growing  fineness  of  its  dis- 
criminations. In  all  of  these  cases  the  mind  remedies  the 
defects  of  its  physical  instrument  by  adopting  new  sys- 
tems of  signs,  or  by  improving  the  imperfect  ones  in  its 
possession. 


THE  FORMS  OF  REPRODUCTION.  •     269 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  FORMS  OF  REPRODUCTION. 

IN  a  previous  chapter,  we  have  studied  the  mechanism  of 
reproduction,  but  not  its  special  forms  and  its  significance 
for  knowledge.  It  has  been  the  custom  in  English  works 
on  psychology  to  distinguish  presentative  from  representa- 
tive knowledge.  In  the  former,  the  object  is  directly  pre- 
sented to  us,  as  in  perception.  In  the  latter,  the  object  is 
recalled  in  memory,  or  created  in  fancy  or  imagination. 
In  this  view,  moreover,  presentation  is  made  to  cover  the 
entire  process  of  perception,  so  that  representation  has  no 
part  in  it.  Representation,  on  the  other  hand,  is  recog- 
nized only  where  the  senses  are  inactive,  as  in  memory  or 
imagination. 

It  is  plain  from  the  previous  chapter  that  we  cannot 
accept  this  view.  We  have  seen  perception  to  be  a  com- 
plex process,  involving  both  presentation  and  representa- 
tion. Indeed,  we  have  seen  that  the  reproduced  elements 
of  knowledge  are  far  more  prominent  even  in  an  act  of 
perception  than  the  elements  directly  given  in  the  sensa- 
tion. In  all  mature  perception  the  mental  object  is  not 
given  in  the  sense,  but  is  suggested  by  it  through  the  force 
of  association.  So  in  the  use  of  spoken  or  written  lan- 
guage ;  the  ear  hears  no  meaning,  and  the  eye  sees  none. 
It  is  the  principle  of  association  which  connects  the  two. 
In  spoken  language  this  fact  often  hides  from  us  the  im- 
perfections of  utterance  ;  we  know  what  to  expect,  and 
we  hear  accordingly.  In  written  language  the  same  thing 
appears.  Unless  we  distinctly  concentrate  our  attention 
upon  the  page,  we  fail  to  notice  the  errors  of  print  or  spell- 


270  PSYCHOLOGY. 

ing,  etc. ;  because,  having  a  conception  of  what  the  sentence 
should  be,  we  seem  often  to  see  the  very  corrections  which 
we  unconsciously  make.  Another  illustration  of  the  same 
fact  is  the  familiar  experience  of  seeing  words  on  the  page 
which  are  not  there.  In  this  case  some  letter  or  letters 
catch  our  eye  ;  and  the  mind  fills  out  the  allied  word,  and 
projects  it  so  vividly  upon  the  page  that  we  are  sure  we 
see  it  until  we  look  for  it,  and  then  it  disappears.  Thus 
we  see  that  the  presentative  and  representative  processes 
go  on  together,  and  both  alike  enter  into  all  completed  acts 
of  knowledge. 

But  while  all  mature  and  completed  perception  involves 
representative  activity,  there  are  many  forms  of  represen- 
tation which  involve  no  present  perception.  Such  are 
memory,  revery,  imagination,  etc. ;  and  these  constitute 
a  special  phase  of  mental  action.  The  mind  is  able  to 
present  to  itself  past,  or  absent,  or  non-existent  objects 
and  events ;  and  this  is  representation.  This  includes  im- 
agination and  fancy,  because  all  the  elements  with  which 
they  deal  have  been  given  in  experience.  We  can  produce 
new  combinations  in  imagination,  but  nothing  more.  By 
no  effort  can  we  tell  what  a  new  sense  would  be  ;  and 
all  our  dreams  of  another  life  consist  in  assimilating  it 
to  this. 

Past  events  may  be  reproduced  as  they  were,  and  may 
be  temporally  located  in  our  past  experience.  This  form 
of  reproduction  we  call  memory  or  recollection.  When 
the  event  is  located  in  the  future,  we  have  expectation. 
Again,  elements  of  experience  may  be  reproduced  without 
any  regard  to  their  original  order,  and  without  any  refer- 
ence to  our  personal  experience.  When  this  activity  is 
automatic  and  aimless,  it  may  be  called  fantasy.  Finally, 
elements  of  experience  may  be  purposely  combined  into  new 
forms  not  hitherto  experienced  ;  or  the  past  and  absent 
may  be  called  up,  not  for  memory,  but  for  contemplation. 


THE   FORMS  OF  REPRODUCTION.  271 

This  form  of  reproduction  may  be  called  imagination.  In 
fact,  however,  there  is  no  consistent  terminology  for  the  sev- 
eral phases  of  the  representative  activity.  Memory,  recol- 
lection, reminiscence,  fancy,  fantasy,  imagination,  creative 
imagination,  are  examples.  In  memory  the  element  of  rec- 
ognition and  temporal  location  is  prominent.  In  fantasy 
both  of  these  elements  are  lacking ;  and  the  activity  is 
automatic,  resulting  often  in  a  straggling  series  of  inco- 
herent, and  often  grotesque  images.  In  imagination  the 
will  controls  and  directs  the  reproductive  activity  with  ref- 
erence to  an  end.  Fantasy  passes  into  imagination  by  an 
infusion  of  directing  and  rational  volition,  and  imagination 
sinks  into  fantasy  by  its  withdrawal.  Memory  also  sinks 
into  fantasy  or  passes  into  imagination  as  the  element  of 
recognition  and  temporal  location  in  past  experience  van- 
ishes. In  actual  experience,  it  is  impossible  to  draw  a 
fixed  frontier  between  these  forms.  Generally  some  ele- 
ment of  each  is  to  be  found  in  all. 

Perfect  recollection  would  involve  the  reproduction  of 
the  content  of  a  past  experience  with  all  its  elements  and 
relations  complete.  This  is  seldom  possible,  except  when 
the  experience  is  near  and  simple.  An  experience  involves 
both  objective. and  subjective  relations.  By  the  former,  we 
mean  those  relations  which  exist  among  the  elements  of 
the  experience  considered  in  itself  as  a  mental  state.  By 
the  latter,  we  mean  the  relation  of  the  experience  as  a 
whole  to  self  and  our  total  experience.  Both  of  these  rela- 
tions are  liable  to  dislocation  or  displacement.  Memory 
never  gives  all  the  elements  of  experience,  and  seldom 
gives  them  in  their  exact  relations  to  one  another.  The 
position  of  an  experience  in  our  total  experience,  also,  is 
very  often  mistaken.  When  the  fact  is  at  a  distance,  the 
temporal  order  is  often  inverted  ;  and  sometimes  imagina- 
tion takes  the  form  of  memory,  and  creates  its  objects  out- 
right. The  local  signs  of  events  in  the  distant  past  are 


272  PSYCHOLOGY. 

generally  very  indistinct ;  and  all  that  memory  produces  is 
the  conviction  that  we  have  had  such  or  such  an  experi- 
ence. In  this  stage  memory  is  especially  liable  to  become 
creative,  or  at  least  to  adopt  the  fictions  of  imagination  for 
realities  of  past  experience. 

It  is  this  fact,  that  complete  recollection  involves  many 
elements,  which  accounts  for  the  paradox  that  we  often 
remember  something  without  being  able  to  recall  it.  We 
often  remember  -an  event  apart  from  its  relations,  and 
especially  apart  from  its  local  sign  ;  and  in  that  case  we 
say  that  we  remember  it,  but  cannot  place  it.  Often,  too, 
we  remember  certain  elements  which  assure  us  that  cer- 
tain other  elements  were  present ;  and  then  we  seem  to 
remember  elements  out  of  memory.  Often,  again,  we  re- 
call ourselves  as  having  had  experience  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances, without  being  able  to  fill  up  its  outlines ;  or 
something  reminds  us  of  something,  we  cannot  tell  what. 

Objects  are  bound  together  in  experience  in  various  rela- 
tions, according  to  the  degree  of  mental  development.  In 
the  dawn  of  intelligence,  the  categories  of  space  and  time 
are  much  more  prominent  in  the  mental  life  than  those 
of  cause,  order,  purpose,  etc.  The  latter  categories,  being 
more  abstract,  are  reached  at  a  later  date.  Memory  fol- 
lows the  original  experience  in  this  respect.  At  first,  it 
tends  to  reproduce  all  things  indifferently  in  their  original 
spatial  and  temporal  order.  Memory  of  this  type  is  often 
remarkably  tenacious.  Long  series  of  words  combined  into 
meaningless  sentences  have  been  reproduced  with  astonish- 
ing accuracy.  But  as  the  original  experience  involved  no 
high  mentality,  so  the  memory  of  the  same  involves  no 
high  mentality.  Indeed,  this  kind  of  memory  is  often 
associated  with  a  low  grade  of  intelligence ;  so  much  so, 
that  a  strong  memory  of  this  sort  is  often  spoken  of  as  a 
mark  of  mental  weakness.  This  kind  of  memory  is  most 
prominent  in  childhood. 


THE  FORMS   OF  REPRODUCTION.  273 

But  as  intellect  develops,  the  tendency  in  the  original 
experience  is  to  pass  over  the  insignificant  and  irrelevant, 
and  to  fix  the  attention  only  on  the  significant  and  im- 
portant. Memory  shows  the  same  progress  and  selection. 
This  has  been  thought  to  be  another  type  of  memory,  and 
has  been  called  the  philosophic  memory.  But,  in  truth, 
the  reproductive  activity  only  follows  the  original  order  of 
interest  and  attention.  The  selective  activity  is  first  mani- 
fested in  the  original  experience ;  and  by  such  selection 
and  the  direction  of  interest,  the  mind  prescribes  the  direc- 
tion of  reproduction. 

The  general  law  of  reproduction  shows  that  an  experience 
will  be  the  more  certainly  recalled  the  more  ties  of  connec- 
tion it  has  with  our  total  experience.  Thus,  the  intelligible 
is  more  easily  recalled  than  the  unintelligible.  In  the  for- 
mer case,  we  have  both  a  sense  experience  and  an  intellect- 
ual one ;  in  the  latter,  the  intellectual  element  is  lacking. 
In  memory  in  general,  the  more  the  intellect  is  brought 
into  play,  the  easier  the  memory.  This  is  due  to  the  dou- 
ble fact,  (1.)  that  a  new  bond  of  connection  is  given,  and 
(2.)  the  logical  relation  of  the  parts  also  constitutes  a  bond. 
No  one  can  remember  the  premises  and  forget  the  conclu- 
sion. When  the  mental  element  is  lacking,  the  matter  is 
generally  soon  forgotten.  "  Crammed  "  examinations  are 
examples.  Things  once  understood,  in  their  causes,  con- 
nections, consequences,  etc.,  are  not  easily  forgotten.  But 
this  is  not  a  particular  kind  of  memory,  but  the  natural 
result  of  the  form  of  the  original  experience. 

The  energy  and  direction  of  memory  in  general  further 
depend  on  the  attention  and  interest  which  entered  into 
the  original  experience.  Other  things  being  equal,  the 
energy  of  memory  will  vary  with  the  intensity  of  attention 
in  the  original  experience ;  and  other  things  being  equal, 
it  will  vary  also  with  the  interest  felt  in  that  experience. 
That  object  is  far  more  likely  to  be  remembered  which 

18 


274  PSYCHOLOGY. 

awakens  feeling,  than  one  which  is  indifferent.  Many  ob- 
jects are  incessantly  passing  through  consciousness ;  yet,  as 
having  no  significance,  attracting  no  attention,  and  awaken- 
ing no  interest,  they  are  instantly  forgotten.  But  while  it 
is  a  general  law  that  we  remember  only  that  to  which  we 
attend  and  in  which  we  take  interest,  there  are  exceptions 
enough  firmly  to  demonstrate  the  rule.  Often  some  utterly 
meaningless  or  isolated  fact  will  obtrude  itself  with  the  ut- 
most persistency,  while  some  important  fact  escapes  us. 

•A  common  form  of  expressing  the  fact  just  dwelt  upon 
is,  that  the  revivability  of  experience  depends  upon  the 
depth  of  the  original  impression,  while  the  depth  in  turn 
depends  upon  attention  and  interest.  The  impression  is 
said  to  be  further  deepened  by  repetition,  and  especially 
by  frequency  of  impression.  This  form  of  speech  arises 
from  a  desire  to  picture  the  process,  and  often  leads  to  a 
false  appearance  of  insight.  We  know  simply  that  a  defi- 
nite form  of  mental  activity  may  be  reproduced ;  and  that 
this  possibility  increases  with  a  variety  of  circumstances, 
such  as  interest,  attention,  repetition,  and  especially  fre- 
quency of  repetition.  On  the  other  hand,  a  long  cessation 
from  a  given  form  of  activity  makes  its  renewal  increas- 
ingly difficult.  Thus,  one  may  practically  forget  his  native 
language  by  long  residence  in  foreign  lands ;  yet  even  here 
one  retains  something  at  least  in  an  increased  facility  for 
reacquiring  it. 

The  possibility  of  reproduction  varies  with  the  nature  of 
the  experience.  Sensations  and  emotions  can  only  be  very 
feebly  recalled.  In  both  cases  we  are  greatly  aided  by  lan- 
guage. In  the  case  of  sensations  we  are  aided  by  a  nascent 
affection  of  the  organism.  In  the  case  of  the  emotions  we 
either  produce  emotion  by  reproducing  the  circumstances, 
or  we  remember  that  we  had  an  emotion  without  being  able 
clearly  to  reproduce  it  except  in  name.  It  is  only  to  these 
elements  that  the  distinction  of  vivid  and  faint  states  applies 


THE  FORMS   OF  REPRODUCTION.  275 

as  the  mark  of  difference  between  present  and  remembered 
experience.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  products  of  the  un- 
derstanding. Forms,  thoughts,  purposes,  admit  of  being 
completely  recovered  without  any  loss  of  their  original 
vividness. 

Reproduction,  whether  as  memory  or  as  simple  imagin- 
ing power,  varies  very  greatly  with  different  persons,  and 
often  with  different  senses  or  different  forms  of  experience 
of  the  same  person.  Many  have  a  good  memory  of  form, 
others  of  color,  others  of  names,  others  of  ideas,  etc.  These 
differences  are  largely  matters  of  training,  and  to  some  ex- 
tent result  from  original  differences  of  constitution.  These 
differences,  however,  are  probably  less  to  be  sought  in  the 
reproductive  faculty  than  in  the  original  tastes  and  inter- 
ests of  the  person,  whereby  the  experience  is  first  modified, 
and  thus  direction  is  given  to  reproduction.  Galton  has 
sought  to  treat  the  subject  statistically,  by  issuing  a  series 
of  questions  to  which  answers  were  obtained.  The  results 
are  given  in  his  work,  "  Inquiries  into  Human  Faculties." 
In  particular,  he  claims  that  the  power  of  visual  represen- 
tation differs  greatly,  and  that  this  power  is  generally  weak 
in  men  given  to  abstract  thinking.  But  apart  from  the 
original  difference  which  inclines  one  to  abstract  thought, 
the  law  of  habit  seems  adequate  to  account  for  this  fact. 

Memory  is  commonly  said  to  be  the  form  of  mental 
action  which  is  most  dependent  on  physical  conditions, 
and  the  one  in  which  mental  failure  first  shows  itself. 
This  is  probably  much  exaggerated.  A  failure  of  memory 
is  easily  discerned,  and  cannot  be  mistaken ;  while  a  failure 
of  judgment  by  no  means  manifests  itself  with  equal  clear- 
ness and  explicitness.  Under  the  influence  of  the  assump- 
tion, also,  all  failures  of  memory  with  the  old  are  referred 
to  old  age,  while  the  myriad  cases  of  forgetfulness  in  all 
ages  are  overlooked.  Finally,  if  there  be  a  greater  appar- 
ent failure  of  memory  than  of  the  judgment,  it  is  possible 


276  PSYCHOLOGY 

that  this  is  due  less  to  the  failure  of  memory  proper,  than 
to  a  growing  lack  of  interest  in  the  subjects  forgotten. 

The  actual  recall  of  objects  is  not  secured  by  their  sim- 
ple revivability ;  there  must  be,  in  addition,  something  in 
present  experience  to  suggest  them.  This  fact  has  been 
dwelt  upon  at  length  in  treating  of  the  mechanism  of  re- 
production, and  needs  no  further  description  here.  The 
fact  itself,  however,  serves  to  explain  a  great  many  forms 
of  forgetfulness  which  often  seem  mysterious.  A  somnam- 
bulist awakes  and  recalls  nothing  of  his  dream ;  but  when 
the  dream  recurs,  he  may  take  up  the  activity  of  the  pre- 
vious dream  as  if  he  had  full  recollection  of  it.  Or  a 
sick  person  may  recover  and  forget  all  the  events  of  his 
illness,  and  on  occasion  of  a  second  attack  recall  them. 
Ordinary  dreams,  also,  are  generally  promptly  forgotten. 
Such  facts  seem  due  to  the  fact  that  these  events  have  no 
associations  with  the  normal  daily  life;  and  hence  there 
is  nothing  in  daily  experience  to  suggest  them.  Hence, 
though  revivable,  they  remain  unrevived. 

Since  memory,  like  all  mental  functions,  is  physically 
conditioned,  we  should  expect  a  general  failure  of  memory 
with  the  failure  of  the  organism.  Such  a  fact  would  have 
in  it  nothing  surprising.  But  there  are  various  losses  of 
memory  which  are  much  more  difficult  to  manage.  The 
progressive  loss  of  memory  in  certain  forms  of  aphasia  ad- 
mits of  some  psychological  explanation;  but  other  facts, 
such  as  the  fogetting  of  a  single  language,  or  certain  classes 
of  subjects,  remain  utterly  opaque  on  any  theory. 

In  fantasy  the  reproductive  activity  is  purely  automatic. 
It  has  no  reference  to  an  actual  past,  on  the  one  hand,  nor 
to  any  mental  aim,  on  the  other.  This  activity  is  in  inverse 
ratio  to  the  self-conscious  and  rational  activity  of  the 
soul.  Hence  it  is  at  its  highest  when  the  will  is  relaxed,  or 
when  reason  is  overturned.  Dreams  and  revery  exhibit  the 
purest  forms  of  its  action.  Revery  is  commonly  less  gro- 


THE  FORMS  OF  REPRODUCTION.  277 

tesque  and  impossible  than  dreams  of  the  same  sort,  be- 
cause there  is  more  of  rational  direction  in  the  former  than 
in  the  latter,  and  because  the  corrective  influence  of  the 
external  world  is  more  prominent. 

There  is  no  need  to  add  much  about  the  imagination. 
In  its  widest  sense  this  is  the  power  of  representing  absent 
or  unreal  objects  and  events  to  ourselves  without  any  ref- 
erence to  our  own  past.  It  differs,  then,  from  memory, 
in  not  producing  the  past  as  it  was,  in  lacking  the  element 
of  recognition,  and  in  having  a  certain  creative  character. 
Various  forms  of  imagination  have  been  distinguished  as 
the  mathematical,  the  artistic,  the  poetic,  the  scientific,  and 
the  philosophical.  These  represent  no  distinctions  of  im- 
agination however,  but  only  differences  of  objects  to  which 
imagination  is  directed. 

The  significance  of  imagination  for  the  higher  uses  of  the 
intellect  is  obvious.  It  enables  us  in  most  cases  to  put  our 
problems  clearly  before  us,  and  thus  furnishes  the  psycho- 
logical conditions  of  thinking.  A  chief  condition  of  pene- 
trative thought  is  that  the  data  of  the  problem  be  distinctly 
presented  and  steadily  held  before  the  mind.  When  this  is 
impossible,  thought  becomes  utterly  uncertain.  It  is  like 
the  vision  of  a  dizzy  person,  or  the  counting  of  one  who  can- 
not remember  from  one  number  to  another  what  the  last 
one  was.  But  the  ability  thus  sharply  to  present  and  re- 
tain our  objects  depends,  in  most  cases,  upon  the  imaging 
power  ;  and  it  is  here  that  differences  of  mental  power  are 
most  manifest.  The  ability  to  reason  profoundly  depends 
in  many  cases  quite  as  much  upon  the  imagination  as  upon 
abstract  logical  penetration.  In  this  sense  imagination  is 
a  pronounced  element  of  mental  strength,  and  a  necessary 
condition  of  greatness.  Imagination  as  such  is  never  a 
mark  of  weakness,  though  it  may  become  a  source  of  weak- 
ness when  combined  with  a  feeble  judgment  and  a  dreamy 
character.  Then  we  have  the  day-dreamer,  pleasing  him- 


278  PSYCHOLOGY. 

self  with  fictitious  objects,  and  losing  sight  of  the  world 
of  reality.  Indeed,  it  is  not  imagination  which  makes  the 
day-dreamer,  but  the  fanciful  content  of  his  imaginings. 

Imagination  also  underlies  all  invention  and  discovery, 
and  precedes  all  creative  production.  It  is  equally  neces- 
sary in  the  moral  realm.  It  underlies  all  sympathy  and  all 
formation  of  ideals.  The  ideal  exists  only  in  the  imagina- 
tion, and  to  sympathize  with  another  we  must  put  ourselves 
in  his  place.  Indeed,  our  life  is  largely  spent  in  a  world  of 
imagination.  The  actual  present  fact  is  of  little  interest. 
Memories,  expectations,  goods  to  be  gained,  evils  to  be 
shunned,  —  these  constitute  the  staple  of  life,  and  are  the 
prolific  source  of  its  joys  and  woes.  Out  of  it  are  the 
issues  of  life  and  death. 

In  speaking  of  sensations,  we  pointed  out  that  the  mind 
has  a  certain  power  over  them.  By  directing  its  attention 
in  other  directions,  sights  and  sounds  may  fail  to  become 
objects  of  knowledge.  With  some  persons  this  power  of 
abstraction  is  very  strong ;  and  they  can  carry  on  a  train 
of  thought  in  the  midst  of  confusion,  such  as  the  noise  of 
a  street,  or  the  practising  of  a  musical  student.  Without 
this  power  to  some  extent  a  rational  mental  life  is  impos- 
sible. The  mind  must  be  able  to  abstract  itself  from  its 
sensations,  and  direct  its  attention  in  any  desired  direction. 
In  speaking  of  perception,  also,  we  found  the  power  of  self- 
direction  necessary  to  explain  error  without  cancelling 
truth.  If  the  mind  be  throughout  subject  to  its  states, 
instead  of  controlling  them,  then  no  trust  in  reason  is 
possible.  The  same  need  appears  in  studying  reproduc- 
tion. If  the  process  were  entirely  removed  from  our  con- 
trol, the  mind  would  be  so  stormed  upon  by  the  past  that 
it  would  have  no  leisure  to  attend  to  the  present.  We 
occasionally  meet  with  persons  in  whom  the  representative 
activity  is  abnormally  prominent ;  and  the  result  is  always 
mental  disorder.  This  is  especially  the  case  in  insanity. 


THE  FORMS  OF  REPRODUCTION.  279 

As  the  mind  must  be  able  to  withdraw  its  attention  from 
the  manifold  impulses  which  at  every  moment  come  pour- 
ing up  from  skin,  eye,  ear,  muscles,  and  viscera,  so  it  is 
equally  necessary  that  it  be  able  to  withdraw  its  attention 
from  the  past  and  attend  to  the  present.  It  must  be  able 
to  control  the  direction  of  reproduction,  so  as  to  bring  it 
into  harmony  with  its  present  thoughts  and  plans.  And 
this  within  certain  limits  the  mind  can  do.  It  can  form 
new  associations  and  undo  old  ones,  and,  by  directing  its 
present  activity  in  a  definite  direction,  exclude  all  those 
functions  which  are  incompatible  with  it.  When  this  ele- 
ment of  volitional  and  rational  direction  is  wanting  in 
memory,  we  have  a  chaotic  reproduction  of  details  with- 
out order  or  selection,  and  with  perpetual  and  wearying 
digressions. 

The  tendency  of  experience  is  to  give  the  mental  nature 
a  fixed  set,  which,  when  once  established,  can  only  with 
difficulty,  if  at  all,  be  changed.  Settled  associations  are 
established,  and  the  spontaneities  of  thought  and  feeling 
flow  in  certain  channels.  Such  a  total  mental  cast  repre- 
sents the  person's  character,  and  it  tends  to  fixedness  or 
permanence. 


280  PSYCHOLOGY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS. 

IN  a  previous  chapter  we  have  sought  to  show  the  ex- 
istence of  a  specific  thought-activity  distinct  from  any 
function  of  the  sensibility,  and  have  dwelt  upon  some  of  its 
leading  norms  of  procedure.  We  have  now  to  consider  it 
more  in  detail. 

In  the  traditional  doctrine  thought  is  distinguished  from 
perception,  or  simple  apprehension,  as  a  later  process.  In 
the  former  we  know  the  concrete  and  particular ;  in  the 
latter  we  reach  the  abstract  and  universal.  Perceptive 
knowledge,  then,  is  of  individual  cases  only ;  thought 
knowledge  is  through  universals.  It  is  already  plain  that 
we  differ  from  this  view.  For  us  there  are  two  grand  di- 
visions of  the  purely  intellectual  life,  (1.)  the  raw  material 
of  the  sensibility,  and  (2.)  the  process  whereby  this  mate- 
rial is  worked  over  into  the  forms  of  the  understanding. 
Thought  includes  this  entire  process,  and  perception  is  only 
the  first  stage  of  its  activity.  Indeed,  we  have  seen  that 
perception  in  its  completed  form  is  second,  and  not  first. 

The  thought-process  presents  two  stages,  the  sponta- 
neous or  automatic,  and  the  reflective  and  volitional.  In 
the  former  stage  thought  goes  on  by  the  psychological 
necessity  of  our  mental  constitution  ;  in  the  latter,  it  be- 
comes self-conscious  and  self-directing.  In  the  former 
stage  the  laws  and  categories  of  thought  are  implicitly 
present  as  principles  of  our  constitution  ;  in  the  latter, 
they  are  explicit  as  formal  rules  of  mental  procedure. 

This  constitutional  activity  furnishes  the  basis  of  reflect- 
ive thought.  Whenever  reflection  begins,  we  find  ourselves 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  281 

already  in  possession  of  a  mental  world.  "We  have  just 
seen  that  the  world  of  things  exists  for  us  only  as  we  con- 
struct it  in  thought  by  bringing  into  sensation  the  catego- 
ries of  the  intellect.  Besides  these,  we  find  also  a  world 
of  ideas  which  lay  no  claim  to  substantive  existence,  but 
which  exist  only  through  a  highly  complex  mental  activity. 
These  mental  products,  whether  common  nouns,  adjectives, 
or  verbs,  are  all  universals,  and  can  only  arise  through  an 
activity  of  classification.  Moreover,  we  find  this  mental 
store  fixed  for  us  in  the  forms  of  language.  This  work  is 
not  the  product  of  our  volition,  but  the  expression  of  our 
constitution.  In  it  we  see  the  mind  operating,  not  with 
consciousness  of  its  aims  and  governing  principles,  but 
according  to  the  necessity  of  its  nature. 

The  universal  form  of  knowledge  is  the  judgment. 
Knowledge  cannot  exist  in  isolated  ideas,  but  only  in  the 
union  of  ideas  into  judgments.  But  judgments  are  impos- 
sible without  the  ideas  united  in  them.  I  cannot  say  this 
is  red  or  green,  without  having  already  some  idea  of  red 
or  green.  A  judgment  of  likeness  or  unlikeness  is  indeed 
possible  between  any  two  experiences  whatever ;  but  such 
judgments  would  never  get  us  beyond  the  individual  cases, 
and  the  mind  would  lose  itself  in  hopeless  confusion  as 
soon  as  experience  became  at  all  complex.  Articulate 
thought  cannot  go  on  until,  in  addition  to  the  judgment  of 
likeness,  the  common  element  is  abstracted  from  the  par- 
ticular cases  and  from  their  individual  temporal  and  spatial 
relations,  and  is  set  apart  as  a  fixed  unit  of  thought  hav- 
ing only  logical  relations.  When  this  is  done,  the  complex 
experience  is  reduced  to  unity,  and  thus  to  a  portable 
form.  This  unit  of  thought  is  a  logical  universal.  It 
has  no  temporal  or  spatial  relations,  but  exists  as  a  gen- 
eral expression  for  all  possible  cases  of  its  kind,  and  as  a 
standard  for  their  classification. 

But  since  the  universal  in  some  form  and  in  some  degree 


282  PSYCHOLOGY. 

of  development  antedates  reflective  thought  and  is  a  neces- 
sity of  all  thinking,  we  must  reckon  the  tendency  to  al> 
stract,  to  generalize,  to  classify,  as  a  part  of  our  mental 
constitution.  When  many  experiences  have  a  common 
element,  the  mind  tends  by  a  certain  psychological  neces- 
sity to  fix  attention  upon  that  element,  to  abstract  it  from 
its  surroundings,  to  form  it  into  a  fixed  unit  of  thought, 
and  finally  to  use  it  as  a  standard  of  classification. 

A  double  condition,  then,  must  be  fulfilled  :  (1.)  the 
experiences  themselves  must  admit  of  classification,  and 
(2.)  there  must  be  in  the  soul  an  inherent  tendency  to 
pass  from  the  particular  to  the  universal.  The  first  con- 
dition, while  necessary  to  thought,  is  not  necessary  in 
thought.  There  is  no  contradiction  in  the  notion  that  all 
our  experiences  should  have  been  as  incommensurable  as 
the  products  of  the  several  senses,  say  colors  and  sounds, 
or  odors  and  pressures.  In  that  case  a  thought  life  would 
have  been  impossible  ;  for  the  raw  material  of  experience 
would  have  been  unadapted  to  our  rational  nature.  The 
inner  structure  of  the  world  of  sensibility,  whereby  it  lends 
itself  to  the  operations  of  the  understanding,  is  something 
which  thought  does  not  make,  but  finds. 

The  second  condition  has  been  generally  repudiated  by 
the  associational  school ;  and  the  claim  has  been  made 
that  by  simple  association  like  experiences  must  coalesce, 
and  differentiate  themselves  from  unlike,  and  thus  produce 
general  ideas.  This  claim  overlooks  the  nature  and  func- 
tion of  the  universal  altogether.  If  the  question  were 
to  determine  the  content  of  a  given  universal,  something 
might  be  said  for  the  claim  that  it  is  reached  by  averaging 
the  particulars  ;  but  the  universal  is  something  very  differ- 
ent from  such  an  average  or  resultant.  The  universal  is 
an  abstraction  from  all  particular  cases,  and  is  itself  never 
given  in  specific  experience.  The  universal  is  not  only 
never  given  in  reality,  it  is  impossible  in  reality.  The 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  283 

particulars,  on  the  other  hand,  do  not  coalesce  to  form  the 
universal,  but  are  ranged  under  the  universal.  We  have 
also  pointed  out  that  association  does  not  even  provide  for 
the  recognition  of  likeness,  upon  which  classification  de- 
pends. The  very  utmost  that  association  could  do  would 
be  the  presentation  of  like  experiences.  The  recognition 
of  this  likeness,  the  abstraction  of  the  common  element, 
the  making  of  it  into  a  fixed  unit  of  thought,  and  its  use  as 
a  standard  for  further  classification,  —  these  are  elements 
for  which  association  makes  no  provision,  even  in  the  case 
of  things  which  can  be  presented  to  the  senses.  This  is  so 
patent  as  to  be  palpable  in  the  case  of  the  majority  of  ab- 
stract and  scientific  conceptions,  which,  instead  of  coming 
of  themselves,  are  reached  only  through  great  labor.  This 
gathering  of  many  objects  under  a  single  conception,  which 
is  not  itself  one  of  the  objects,  but  the  representative  of  all 
alike,  is  something  added  to  any  possible  product  of  asso- 
ciation. It  can  only  be  viewed  as  the  outcome  of  a  specific 
tendency  in  the  mind  to  pass  from  the  particular  to  the 
universal. 

It  is  at  this  point  that  the  possibility  of  language  arises. 
Language  deals  with  universals  as  soon  as  it  gets  clear,  of 
the  interjectional  stage;  and  interjections  are  not  words, 
but  noises.  Even  the  particular  thing  must  have  some 
element  of  universality  in  it  before  it  can  become  an  object 
of  articulate  thought  or  speech.  "When  the  classifying  ten- 
dency of  the  mind  is  lacking,  there  can  be  no  rational 
utterance,  for  there  would  be  nothing  to  utter.  For  the 
production  of  language  several  elements  are  needed.  There 
must  be  (1.)  a  plurality  of  experiences,  (2.)  an  abstraction 
of  the  common  element  of  these  experiences  as  a  fixed  unit 
of  thought,  (3.)  the  creation  of  a  name  for  this  common 
element,  and  (4.)  an  extension  of  this  name  to  all  the 
individuals  of  the  group  possessing  this  element. 

In  classification  the  mind  grasps  a  multitude  of  cases  in 


284  PSYCHOLOGY. 

a  single  conception,  which  stands  for  all  alike.  But  objects 
themselves  are  often  complex,  and  must  be  reduced  to- 
simplicity  to  prevent  our  losing  ourselves  in  the  mass  of 
details.  The  mind  guards  against  this  by  fixing  its  atten- 
tion upon  some  striking  feature  to  the  neglect  of  the  others. 
This  serves  to  identify  the  thing ;  and  the  other  elements 
are  referred  to  only  as  occasion  may  require.  It  is  this 
form  of  abstraction  which  is  especially  prominent  in  the 
formation  of  language.  Things  are  named  from  their  lead- 
ing trait.  Accordingly,  when  we  get  down  to  the  roots  of 
a  language,  we  find  some  abstract  conception  expressive  of 
a  prominent  quality  of  the  thing  in  question.  In  lack  of  a 
verbal  sign,  this  abstract  quality  itself  serves  as  the  sym- 
bol of  the  thing.  In  both  the  classifying  and  the  symbol- 
izing process,  the  mental  aim  is  to  master  complexity  by 
reducing  it  to  simplicity  and  unity. 

The  logical  necessity  of  the  several  elements  just  men- 
tioned is  plain,  except  in  the  case  of  the  vocal  sign.  The 
others  belong  to  thought  itself ;  the  latter  is  something  of 
an  arbitrary  addition.  Its  teleological  significance  as  a 
condition  of  rational  society  is  apparent;  but  the  inner 
necessity  by  which  it  is  reached  is  not  clearly  seen.  If 
it  were  not  for  the  multiplicity  of  languages,  one  might  be 
tempted  to  think  that  there  is  some  pre-established  har- 
mony between  sound  and  sense ;  but  the  facts  clearly  show 
that  the  actual  sounds  are  arbitrary,  at  least  within  the 
easy  compass  of  the  vocal  organs.  We  content  ourselves 
with  pointing  out  the  logical  conditions  of  language,  and 
leave  to  others  to  guess  at  the  physiological  and  psycho- 
logical structure  which  leads  to  its  realization. 

If  the  view  expounded  be  correct,  language  depends  on 
thought.  Before  the  word,  there  must  be  the  meaning. 
Thought  must  establish  its  classes  and  its  short-hand  sym- 
bols, or  the  vocal  sign  will  be  only  a  noise.  This  sign  has 
a  double  function,  —  the  communication  of  thought,  and 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  285 

the  registration  of  thought.  The  generation  of  thought 
must  be  sought  elsewhere.  This  order,  however,  has  often 
been  inverted,  and  thought  has  been  made  the  product  of 
language.  The  truth  in  this  notion  is,  that  language  as  a 
register  of  thought  may  very  greatly  abbreviate  the  work 
of  thought.  Every  word  expresses  the  result  of  a  process 
of  abstraction  and  generalization;  and  we  who  inherit  a 
language  find  a  vast  amount  of  mental  work  done  for  us. 
We  have  simply  to  understand  the  language,  not  to  con- 
struct it.  The  difference  is  at  least  as  great  as  that  be' 
tween  understanding  a  demonstration  and  inventing  one. 
A  very  commonplace  student  can  understand  what  only 
Newton  or  Laplace  could  discover. 

But  language  not  only  serves  thought  by  storing  up  its 
results  and  abbreviating  its  processes,  it  also  often  mis- 
leads thought,  and  thus  becomes  responsible  for  much  error. 
Some  of  the  chief  blunders  of  speculation  have  been  dis- 
eases of  language.  Its  vagueness  and  ambiguity,  when  ap- 
plied to  many  facts,  are  sources  of  mistake ;  but  its  chief 
danger  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  can  be  used  without  due  re- 
gard to  the  underlying  thought.  In  this  way  phrases, 
doctrines,  and  even  philosophical  systems,  have  been  con- 
structed, which  have  the  most  swelling  sound  but  are  empty 
of  the  slightest  substance.  While,  then,  thought  must  al- 
ways be  indebted  to  language,  it  must  at  the  same  time 
exercise  critical  supervision  over  it. 

In  studying  the  genesis  of  judgments,  we  may  consider 
either  the  logical  or  the  psychological  order.  In  the  former 
case  we  should  decide  that  judgments  of  sensation  are  basal, 
as  the  raw  material  is  directly  given,  and  we  have  only  to 
recognize  the  likeness  or  unlikeness  which  exists.  Judg- 
ments of  time,  space,  and  number  would  come  next,  and, 
last  of  all,  judgments  of  substance  and  causation.  But 
though  this  may  be  the  logical  order,  it  certainly  is  not  the 
psychological  order.  The  central  idea  around  which  the 


286  PSYCHOLOGY. 

mental  life  spontaneously  grows  is  that  of  things.  This  is 
the  idea  which  supports  all  the  rest,  and  to  which,  in  one 
form  or  another,  all  others  attach  themselves.  Qualities 
are  qualities  of  things ;  relations  are  relations  of  things ; 
numbers  are  numbers  of  things ;  activities  are  activities  of 
things.  In  spontaneous  consciousness,  judgments  of  sen- 
sation are  never  actually  made  until  there  has  been  a  con- 
siderable practice  in  abstraction.  Our  first  judgments  are 
not  that  we  have  sensations  or  perceive  phenomena,  but 
that  we  perceive  things.  That  a  sense  object  is  only  a 
phenomenon  or  bundle  of  qualities,  is  a  proposition  which 
spontaneous  thought  cannot  even  understand.  So  little  is 
it  true  psychologically  that  things  are  built  up  out  of  per- 
ceived qualities,  that  the  converse  is  rather  true,  that  quali- 
ties as  such  are  reached  only  through  the  analysis  of  things. 
The  changes  in  a  sense  aggregate  first  teach  us  that  it  has 
separable  qualities ;  and  it  is  only  after  the  experience  of 
such  change  that  we  distinguish  the  thing  from  its  quali- 
ties. Until  then  it  is  all  thing  and  no  quality.  In  like 
manner,  the  idea  of  causation  arises  only  as  the  changes 
and  movements  of  things  are  discovered,  and  thus  the  no- 
tion of  activity  is  reached.  The  notion  of  number  first 
arises  through  the  experience  of  similar  things.  Whenever 
we  first  come  upon  the  mind  in  its  spontaneous  working, 
we  find  it  dealing  with  things.  The  categories  inherent  in 
our  mental  constitution  give  a  form  to  experience,  and  pro- 
duce original  syntheses,  before  the  mind  itself  becomes  con- 
scious of  its  own  aims  and  the  principles  which  govern  it. 
These  syntheses  are  not  the  product  of  reflection,  but  the 
outcome  of  our  mental  nature ;  and  when  the  psychologist 
comes  to  study  them,  he  cannot  hope  to  come  upon  them  in 
the  making,  but  only  to  find  the  mental  principles  on  which 
they  depend.  His  work  will  consist  in  taking  apart  what 
the  mind  has,  by  the  necessity  of  its  nature,  joined  together, 
and  not  by  any  means  in  helping  the  mind  to  construct  its 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  287 

world  of  thoughts  and  things.  This  construction  was  at 
once  too  complex  in  its  nature  and  too  important  for  prac- 
tical life  to  be  left  to  our  devices ;  and  a  law  of  our  nature 
does  for  us  far  better  than  we  could  do  for  ourselves. 

But  this  question  of  psychological  priority  in  the  order 
of  judgments  has  no  speculative  interest.  That  which  has 
made  it  seem  so  important  is  the  fancy  that,  if  we  could 
only  find  the  psychologically  first,  we  should  discover  the 
true  original  of  intelligence,  and  might  regard  all  later 
manifestations  as  phases  of  that  first  element.  This  mis- 
take has  already  been  sufficiently  dwelt  upon. 
•  Spontaneous  thought  gives  us  the  world  of  things  as  it 
exists  for  perception,  and  the  world  of  thought  as  it  exists 
in  language.  It  brings  neither  of  these  worlds,  however, 
to  a  point  where  all  the  demands  of  reflective  thought  are 
met.  Spontaneous  thought  remains  on  the  surface  of  the 
world  of  things,  and  its  thought  world  is  vague  and  in- 
exact. When  it  comes  to  science,  the  classifications  of 
common  sense  often  have  to  be  abandoned  altogether,  as 
being  superficial  or  mistaken ;  and  its  terminology  is  so 
inadequate  or  misleading,  that  a  new  one  has  to  be  created 
outright.  In  order,  then,  that  knowledge  shall  be  assured 
and  extended,  it  is  necessary  that  reflective  thought  begin. 
In  this  the  mind  seeks  to  become  conscious  of  its  own  laws 
and  principles,  to  give  an  account  of  its  processes  and  aims, 
and  to  render  our  spontaneous  conceptions  and  judgments 
more  clear  and  exact.  The  doing  of  this  work  is  the  espe- 
cial function  of  logic. 

The  treatment  of  the  judgment  in  formal  logic  is  often 
entirely  false  to  its  psychological  character.  Fundamen- 
tally, a  judgment  is  the  establishment  of  a  relation  between 
the  content  of  two  notions.  This  relation  does  not  exist 
between  the  notions  as  mental  acts,  but  only  between  their 
logical  content.  But  this  relation  does  not  admit  of  being 
reduced  to  a  single  form.  Judgments  take  place  under  all 


288  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  categories,  and  vary  accordingly.  We  have  judgments 
of  things,  and  judgments  of  their  various  relations  of  space, 
time,  number,  quantity,  dependence,  likeness,  and  unlike- 
ness,  and,  finally,  judgments  of  the  relations  of  these  rela- 
tions. Attributive  judgments  take  place  under  the  category 
either  of  substance  and  property,  or  of  subject  and  predi- 
cate. Judgments  of  dependence  depend  on  the  category  of 
causation.  Spatial  judgments  depend  on  space  and  its  sub- 
categories.  Quantitative  judgments  depend  on  the  category 
of  quantity  in  its  various  forms.  In  the  attributive  judg- 
ment,  the  predicate  P  is  declared  to  belong  to  or  inhere 
in  the  subject  S.  That  is,  whoever  thinks  8  in  its  com- 
pleteness must  include  P  as  a  part  of  its  content.  In  the 
causal  judgment,  P  is  declared  to  be  the  effect  of  S.  In 
the  quantitative  judgment,  P  is  put  equal  to  or  greater  or 
less  than  S.  In  the  classificatory  judgment,  iS  is  included 
in  the  class  P,  or  the  mark  P  is  affirmed  of  S.  Each  cat- 
egory has  its  own  type  of  judgment. 

For  various  technical  reasons,  logic  has  not  recognized 
this  fact,  but  has  sought  to  reduce  all  judgments  to  a 
single  type.  The  traditional  logic  has  regarded  subsump- 
tion  as  the  essential  form  of  the  judgment.  Subject  and 
predicate  are  class  terms,  and  their  only  relation  is  that 
of  inclusion  or  exclusion.  Accordingly,  to  say  that  snow 
is  white  means  that  snow  is  included  in  the  class  of  white 
things.  This  meaning  can  indeed  be  derived  from  the 
judgment ;  for  snow  would  not  be  white  if  it  were  not 
included  in  the  class  of  white  things.  But  at  the  same 
time  it  is  plain  that  psychologically  such  a  rendering  of 
the  judgment  is  false.  Psychologically,  the  judgment  is 
one  of  predication,  and  not  of  inclusion  ;  and  the  meaning 
is,  that  white  is  an  attribute  of  snow.  It  would  never  occur 
to  any  one  but  a  logician  to  think  first  of  a  set  of  white 
things,  and  then  to  identify  snow  with  one  of  the  set. 

Indeed,  so  far  from  viewing  subsumption  as  the  essential 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  289 

form  of  the  judgment,  we  must  rather  regard  it  as  an  arti- 
ficial type,  which  seldom  or  never  occurs  in  spontaneous 
thought.  Even  when  both  subject  and  predicate  are  nouns> 
the  attributive  character  of  the  judgment  is  still  apparent. 
Thus,  Iron  is  a  metal,  means  that  iron  has  the  properties 
of  a  metal,  and  not  that  iron  is  included  in  the  class  of 
metals.  Or  if  we  say  that  oaks  are  trees,  we  do  not  think 
of  the  general  class  of  trees  and  then  put  oaks  in  the  class, 
but  we  mean  to  attribute  to  the  objects  denoted  by  oaks 
the  properties  signified  by  tree.  Indeed,  the  attributive 
judgment  is  the  real  foundation  of  the  subsumptive  one ; 
for  how  could  things  be  subsumed  under  a  class,  if  they 
had  not  the  attribute  which  the  class  mark  implies  ?  The 
logical  reading  may  be  allowed  for  convenience'  sake,  but 
only  so  long  as  it  does  not  pretend  to  be  a  true  rendering 
of  the  psychological  fact,  but  confesses  itself  to  be  a  logical 
makeshift. 

It  is  manifestly  impossible  to  apply  the  principle  of  sub- 
sumption  to  such  judgments  as  that  A  is  to  the  right  of  B  ; 
A  is  later  than  B ;  A  is  longer  than  B ;  A=  B,  etc. 
The  absurdity  of  the  principle  when  applied  to  mathe- 
matics has  always  been  so  evident,  that  some  logicians 
have  sought  to  save  it  by  denying  that  logic  has  any  appli- 
cation to  mathematics. 

Some  modern  innovators  have  thought  to  reduce  the 
relation  of  subject  and  predicate  to  that  of  identity.  If 
snow  is  white,  of  course  snow  must  be  identical  with  some 
white  thing,  namely,  snow.  If  iron  is  a  metal  it  must  be 
identical  with  some  member  of  the  class  of  metals,  that  is, 
with  iron.  Hence,  "  Iron  is  a  metal,"  can  be  read,  "Iron  = 
iron-metal."  Here,  again,  the  grotesque  reading  may  be 
allowed  if  there  be  any  gain  in  it ;  but  the  psychological 
distortion  is  even  worse  than  in  the  preceding  case.  Both 
views  were  constructed  without  reference  to  psychological 
truth,  but  only  to  the  exigencies  of  logical  rules. 

19 


290  PSYCHOLOGY. 

But  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  give  any  list  of  judgments 
and  their  classes,  but  only  to  call  attention  (1.)  to  the 
difference  between  the  actual  judgment  of  the  mental  life 
and  the  artificial  judgment  of  the  logicians,  and  (2.)  to  the 
fact  that  the  categories  are  the  principles  under  which  judg- 
ments take  place. 

In  the  judgment  we  first  come  upon  the  ideal  distinctions 
of  truth  and  error.  Many  of  our  mental  states  represent 
nothing  beyond  themselves.  They  are  simply  facts,  and  as 
such  are  neither  true  nor  false,  but  simply  real.  Again, 
many  connections  of  mental  states  are  of  the  same  sort. 
They  cohere  by  the  force  of  association,  but  this  coherence 
is  accidental  and  represents  no  truth.  It  is  different  with 
the  judgment.  The  relation  of  ideas  in  the  judgment  is 
not  merely  a  subjective  fact  in  the  individual  consciousness, 
but  claims  to  represent  an  independent  truth. 

This  claim  presupposes  an  order  existing  independently 
of  individual  volition  and  consciousness.  This  may  be  an 
order  of  fact  or  an  order  of  reason.  In  the  order  of  fact 
there  are  certain  things  in  certain  relations  and  with  cer- 
tain laws.  In  the  order  of  reason  there  are  certain  ideas 
which  belong  together,  and  others  which  are  mutually  re- 
pugnant. Judgments  are  true  which  agree  with  this  order ; 
those  are  false  which  depart  from  it.  In  the  true  judgment 
conceptions  are  joined  which  in  the  nature  of  things  or  in 
the  nature  of  reason  belong  together ;  in  the  false  judgment 
conceptions  are  joined  which  in  the  nature  of  things  or  in 
the  nature  of  reason  should  be  kept  apart.  What  that 
order  of  fact  and  reason  may  imply,  and  what  the  nature  of 
its  existence  may  be,  we  leave  to  metaphysics  to  inquire. 
In  actual  experience  we  distinguish  the  order  of  fact  from 
the  order  of  reason ;  and  our  judgments  have  constant  ref- 
erence to  one  or  the  other. 

It  is  this  reference  which  underlies  what  we  call  convic- 
tion, belief,  assent,  etc.,  and  which  gives  the  judgment  its 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  291 

objective  character.  On  this  point  there  has  been  a  curi- 
ous uncertainty  among  logicians.  Some  have  insisted  that 
things  are  united  in  the  judgment;  how  otherwise  could 
the  judgment  have  objective  significance?  Others,  seeing 
that  things  are  not  in  the  mind,  and  that  the  mind  can 
never  get  beyond  its  thoughts  of  things,  have  held  that  only 
thoughts  are  united  in  the  judgment.  Neither  view  ex- 
presses the  fact.  The  judgment  as  a  process  is  of  course 
subjective,  and  the  elements  of  the  judgment  can  never  be 
more  than  our  conceptions  ;  but  their  union  or  separation 
claims  to  represent  an  order  of  fact  or  reason  which  is 
independent  of  the  judgment  itself.  This  constitutes  the 
objectivity  and  universality  of  the  judgment,  and  expresses 
our  conviction.  What  happens  in  assent  or  dissent  beyond 
uniting  or  separating  ideas,  Mill  declares  to  be  a  most  intri- 
cate problem.  The  surplus  consists  in  the  tacit  reference 
to  a  fixed  order  with  which  our  thought  agrees. 

The  judgment,  then,  is  an  attempt  to  reproduce  in  thought 
some  fact  or  synthesis  of  the  universal  order.  We  learn 
what  these  facts  and  syntheses  are,  from  three  leading 
sources,  —  experience,  inference,  and  insight,  or  intuition. 

Concerning  the  first  two  there  is  no  dispute.  Experience 
and  inference  from  experience  are  by  universal  consent  the 
only  source  of  knowledge  of  the  world,  of  fact  except  so  far 
as  the  latter  falls  into  the  necessary  forms  of  intelligence. 
Concerning  the  world  of  reason  there  is  debate.  One  school 
holds  that  in  this  world  there  are  universal  truths^  which 
the  mind  discerns  by  its  own  insight  and  takes  on  its  own 
warrant.  They  are  not  held  because  the  mind  has  found 
them  to  be  true  in  experience,  but  because  it  perceives 
them  to  be  necessarily  true.  Another  school  holds  that 
the  only  warrant  for  believing  anything  to  be  true  is  that 
we  have  found  it  true  in  experience. .  Apart  from  this,  the 
mind  has  no  standard  of  true  or  false,  possible  or  impos- 
sible ;  in  particular,  it  is  utterly  unable  out  of  itself  to  dis- 


292  PSYCHOLOGY. 

cern  any  truth  whatever.  A  famous  formula  for  this 
doctrine  is,  that,  for  all  we  can  say,  two  and  two  may 
make  five  in  some  other  planet.  This  is  the  philosophi- 
cal aspect  of  the  debate  between  the  rational  and  the 
sensational  school  of  philosophy,  to  which  we  referred  in 
a  previous  chapter. 

In  inference  a  relation  is  established  between  the  subject 
and  predicate  of  the  conclusion,  generally  by  means  of  their 
relation  to  some  other  notion  or  notions.  If  two  things 
agree  with  a  third  thing  in  the  same  respect,  they  agree 
with  each  other  in  that  respect.  If  one  agrees  and  the 
other  disagrees,  they  disagree  with  each  other.  The  impor- 
tant thing  is  to  establish  a  relation  between  the  subject  and 
predicate  of  the  conclusion.  This  may  be  done  by  compar- 
ing them  with  one  thing  or  with  many ;  in  either  case  the 
conclusion  is  valid.  The  so-called  fallacy  of  four  terms  in 
logic  does  not  consist  in  the  fact  that  the  terms  are  four, 
but  entirely  in  the  fact  that  the  premises  establish  no  rela- 
tion between  the  subject  and  predicate  of  the  conclusion. 

Actual  inference  does  not  proceed  according  to  any  one 
method.  Sometimes  a  thing  is  subsumed  under  a  class, 
and  then  the  marks  of  the  class  are  affirmed  of  the  thing. 
This  is  the  method  of  subsumption,  and  has  been  falsely 
assumed  to  be  the  enly  method. 

But  quite  as  often  we  proceed  by  the  method  of  substitu- 
tion. That  which  is  true  of  a  given  thing  is  true  of  all 
equivalent  things  in  so  far  as  equivalent.  We  may;  then, 
for  the  given  thing  substitute  any  equivalent  thing  and 
draw  the  appropriate  conclusion. 

By  using  a  little  violence,  we  might  make  the  latter 
method  include  the  former ;  but  this  would  only  gratify  the 
logical  lust  for  unity,  and  would  in  no  way  remove  the  fact 
that  the  mind  actually  follows  both.  Many  forms  of  in- 
ference do  not  rest  upon  logical  analysis,  but  on  a  direct 
intuition  of  the  relations  specified  in  the  premises.  Thus, 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  293 

A  is  earlier  than  -B,  and  B  is  earlier  than  C ;  hence  A  is 
earlier  than  C; —  or  A  is  to  the  right  of  B,  and  B  is  to  the 
right  of  C ;  hence  A  is  to  the  right  of  C ;  —  or  A  is  larger 
than  B,  and  B  is  larger  than  C ;  hence  A  is  larger  than 
C.  Without  the  intuitions  of  space,  time,  and  quantity, 
these  premises  would  be  impossible ;  and  the  inferences  are 
reached  through  intuition  of  the  relations  affirmed  in  the 
premises.  We  do  not  analyze  the  terms,  but  construct  the 
relations  and  see  the  conclusion.  But  we  must  leave  to 
logic  to  develop  the  various  forms  of  inference. 

We  have  seen  that  the  logical  doctrine  of  the  judgment  is 
highly  artificial,  and  often  does  violence  to  the  psychologi- 
cal fact.  This  charge  is  even  more  applicable  to  the  logical 
doctrine  of  inference.  The  traditional  logic  has  held  that 
all  reasoning  is  upon  class  terms,  and  has  had  to  resort  to 
unspeakable  distortions  to  provide  for  quantitative  and  sub- 
stitutional  reasoning.  Language,  again,  admits  of  the  in- 
version of  subject  and  predicate ;  and  this  fact  has  been 
made  the  basis  of  an  elaborate  doctrine  of  mood  and  fig- 
ure, as  if  the  accident  of  language  were  the  foundation  of 
thought.  Finally,  u\ider  the  influence  of  Aristotle,  and 
the  fancy  that  all  reasoning  must  be  subsumptive,  one  of- 
these  figures  was  decided  to  be  the  perfect  figure ;  and  a 
highly  complex  verbal  mechanism  was  devised  for  reducing 
all  the  moods  of  the  imperfect  figures  to  the  perfect  one. 
The  ingenuity  was  boundless,  but  the  procedure  was  arti- 
ficial, and  the  product  absolutely  worthless.  There  was  no 
pretence  of  psychological  truth,  or  even  of  increased  practi- 
cal facility,  but  rather  a  barren  study  of  verbal  permutations, 
in  which,  moreover,  the  real  nerve  of  inference  was  for  the 
most  part  overlooked.  In  its  latest  form  of  symbolic  logic 
this  tendency  has  reached  its  climax  by  becoming  purely 
mechanical. 

We  return  now  to  the  question  whether  there  are  any. 
truths  of  reason  which  are  intuitively  discerned.  This 


294  PSYCHOLOGY. 

question  divides  into  two :  (1.)  Are  there  any  universal 
truths  ?  and  (2.)  How  do  we  recognize  them  as  such  ? 
These  two  questions  are  seldom  separated ;  and  the  doc- 
trine of  empiricism  has  always  been  vague  and  unsteady  in 
consequence.  Many  empiricists  have  held  that  there  are 
truths  which  are  universally  valid,  but  we  reach  them  not 
by  direct  insight,  but  by  inference  or  abstraction  from  ex- 
perience. This  was  the  general  view  until  the  time  of 
Hume,  and  in  some  belated  minds  it  survives  still.  Others 
hold  that  we  know  nothing  of  universal  truths,  but  only 
of  rules  which  are  valid  within  the  limits  of  experience, 
with  what  has  been  naively  called  "  a  reasonable  degree  of 
extension  to  adjacent  cases." 

The  former  view  is  forced  to  pass  over  into  the  latter. 
For  since  the  truth  is  not  known  by  direct  insight,  it  must 
be  derived  in  some  way  from  experience ;  and  we  have  to 
show  how  a  particular  experience  can  prove  a  universal 
truth.  But  without  the  aid  of  some  principle,  no  particu- 
lar experience  can  carry  us  beyond  itself;  and  if  that  prin- 
ciple itself  is  not  self-evident,  it  also  needs  proof.  Strict 
proof,  then,  is  impossible  without  some  self-evident  princi- 
ples somewhere  which  the  mind  takes  on  its  own  warrant ; 
for  in  that  case  proof  would  never  come  to  an  end,  and 
nothing  would  be  proved.  Hence,  either  we  must  credit 
the  mind  with  a  power  of  knowing  some  things  on  its  own 
account  and  warrant,  or  we  must  pass  on  to  the  second 
phase  of  empiricism,  and  hold  that  we  have  no  ground  for 
believing  that  any  truth  is  strictly  universal. 

To  empiricism  in  both  forms  mathematics  has  been  a 
perennial  stumbling-block.  We  have  here  a  great  body  of 
apparent  truth,  which  seems  to  be  valid  everywhere  and 
always,  and  which  is  not  abstracted  from  experience  or 
proved  by  it.  For  mathematical  truth  there  is  no  source 
beyond  the  mind  itself.  The  science  is  built  upon  the 
basis  of  definitions,  and  the  corresponding  intuitions.  To 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  295 

see  that  a  straight  line  is  the  shortest  distance  between 
two  points,  we  make  no  experiments,  but  construct  the 
problem  in  thought.  Most  of  the  conceptions  dealt  with, 
also,  have  no  analogue  in  experience,  but  are  generated  by 
the  mind  itself.  Roots,  logarithms,  differentials,  integrals, 
are  examples.  The  mind  evolves  such  notions  out  of  itself, 
and  deals  with  them  by  its  own  insight.  And  even  in 
cases  where  the  quantities  admit  of  representation,  experi- 
ence is  still  unable  to  deal  with  them  because  of  their 
vastness,  or  the  fineness  of  perception  and  measurement 
required.  The  products  of  large  quantities,  the  properties 
of  curves,  the  ratio  of  the  circumference  of  the  circle  to 
its  diameter,  are  examples.  In  all  these  cases  the  mind 
works  by  methods  of  its  own  invention,  and  tests  these 
methods  by  its  own  insight.  Proof  and  disproof  are  alike 
impossible  to  any  form  of  objective  experience.  Either, 
then,  we  must  allow  that  the  mind  is  able  to  know  some 
things  on  its  own  account,  or  we  must  drag  the  whole 
system  of  mathematics  down  into  ruin,  and  say  that,  for 
aught  we  know,  two  and  two  may  make  five  in  some  other 
planet.  But  why  five  rather  than  fifty,  or  five  hundred,  or 
three,  or  nothing,  would  be  hard  to  say ;  or  why  in  another 
planet,  and  not  in  another  street  or  another  moment,  or  for 
another  person,  would  be  equally  hard  to  say.  Indeed,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  give  any  reason  why  two  and  two 
should  not  equal  all  these  things  at  once,  and  at  the  same 
time  be  unequal  to  all  at  once.  The  condition  of  absurdity 
is  the  existence  of  a  rational  standard;  and  when  this 
has  been  struck  down,  there  is  no  longer  anything  irra- 
tional or  absurd.  Hence,  until  the  empiricists  have  either 
overthrown  mathematics,  or  shown  the  experience  upon 
which  mathematical  truths  are  based,  it  seems  safe  to 
hold  that  the  mind  is  able  to  know  some  things  by  its 
own  insight. 

Facts  which  are  immediately  given  in  experience,  and 


296  PSYCHOLOGY. 

propositions  which  are  either  proved  or  directly  seen  to  be 
true,  are  elements  of  knowledge.  Besides  these,  there  is 
a  great  realm  of  belief.  This  comprises  all  propositions 
accepted  as  true  whose  denial  would  involve  no  contra- 
diction of  consciousness,  and  no  violation  of  the  laws  of 
thought.  Most  of  what  is  practically  important  in  life 
lies  in  this  realm.  If  our  mental  possessions  should  sud- 
denly shrink  to  what  we  know,  the  residue  would  be 
paltry  and  pitiable  in  the  extreme.  It  is  only  by  ventur- 
ing beyond  knowledge  that  a  social,  or  even  a  mental, 
existence  becomes  possible. 

To  this  realm  of  belief  belong  trust  in  testimony,  the 
practical  faith  of  man  in  man,  our  faith  in  the  uniformity 
of  nature  and  the  whole  department  of  scientific  and  specu- 
lative theory.  This  theory  is  throughout  an  attempt  to 
rationalize  our  experience,  and  rests  upon  assumptions 
which  while  practically  necessary  are  forever  speculatively 
undemonstrabl  e. 

In  this  realm  we  attain  to  practical,  in  distinction  from 
theoretical,  certainty ;  and  for  life  and  practice  the  former 
is  often  as  good  as  the  latter,  and  perhaps  even  better.  In 
fact,  the  human  mind  is  adjusted  to  easy  belief ;  so  much 
so,  that  the  function  of  argument  and  criticism  is  less  to 
produce  than  to  reduce  belief.  We  generalize  hastily  ;  we 
take  for  granted  that  wrhat  has  been  will  be ;  and  we  de- 
duce a  law  from  a  very  scanty  experience.  This  fact  has 
probably  a  teleological  explanation ;  and  in  any  case  it  is  a 
highly  fortunate  circumstance.  It  is  the  source  of  that 
practical  certainty  which  is  necessary  to  our  orderly  mental 
life.  If  man  had  to  wait  to  reason  out  his  way,  he  would 
never  get  started,  and  if  he  should  start  would  soon  stop. 
For  beings  with  our  feeble  insight  and  practical  necessities, 
some  other  and  shorter  way  was  necessary  ;  and  this  was 
provided  by  so  adjusting  our  constitution  that  a  system  of 
beliefs  should  spring  up  from  our  experience,  not  by  way 


THE  THOUGHT-PROCESS.  297 

of  strict  logical  inference,  but  by  the  psychological  necessi- 
ties of  our  nature. 

Very  many  of  our  beliefs  are  of  this  kind.  They  do  not 
represent  reasoned  truths,  but  practical  assumptions.  They 
do  not  express  mental  inferences,  but  rather  "the  mental 
nature  itself,  its  tendencies,  interests,  the  grade  of  its  de- 
velopment, etc.  Beliefs  of  this  kind  are  not  displaced  by 
being  disproved ;  indeed,  they  very  rarely  admit  of  either 
proof  or  disproof ;  they  vanish  only  by  changing  the  men- 
tal soil.  They  spring  naturally  from  one  kind  of  mental 
soil,  and  die  out  on  another.  As  long  as  the  conditions 
are  favorable,  beliefs  of  this  kind  are  held  with  a  practical 
certainty  which  surpasses  logical  demonstration.  The  psy- 
chology of  belief  is  highly  complex,  and  has  never  been 
adequately  studied. 

•  The  same  tendency  which  leads  the  mind  to  form  classes 
from  individuals  leads  it  also  to  classify  these  classes,  tliufc 
forming  more  and  more  comprehensive  groups.  It  would 
seem  that  in  this  way  we  must  at  last  come  down  to  a 
single  class,  comprehending  all  others ;  but  this  is  true 
only  for  limited  fields  of  thought.  In  the  organic  world 
we  may  pass  from  individuals  through  species  and  genera 
to  the  most  general  conceptions  of  plant  and  animal ;  and 
these  again  may  be  united  in  the  one  notion  of  organic 
existence.  But  when  we  take  the  mental  life  as  a  whole, 
we  come  down  to  no  such  unity,  but  rather  to  a  series  of 
conceptions  which  admit  of  no  further  reduction.  Judg- 
ments take  place  under  the  various  categories  of  substance 
and  attribute,  cause  and  effect,  space,  time,  number,  etc. ; 
and  if  we  should  classify  all  our  mental  objects,  we  should 
find  distinct  and  irreducible  classes  corresponding  to  the 
categories.  In  this  way  the  categories  which  exist  prima- 
rily as  implicit  laws  of  mental  procedure  emerge  as  distinct 
and  recognized  conceptions. 


298  PSYCHOLOGY. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

INTERACTION  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY. 

ALL  but  materialists  distinguish  between  soul  and  body ; 
and  this  fact  gives  rise  to  a  special  set  of  questions  con- 
cerning their  mutual  relations.  We  need  to  know,  if  pos- 
sible, the  laws  according  to  which  they  affect  each  other, 
and  their  significance  for  each  other.  This  general  prob- 
lem we  treat  under  the  head  of  the  interaction  of  soul  and 
body.  By  interaction  we  mean  only  that  they  affect  each 
other.  Indeed,  this  is  all  that  the  union  of  soul  and  body 
means  in  any  case.  It  has  become  conventional  with  the 
frivolous  opponents  of  the  spiritual  view  to  ask  for  the 
band  which  ties  soul  and  body  together.  The  band  is 
the  fact  of  mutual  influence.  Other  band  there  is  none ; 
and  no  other  is  needed. 

The  complete  unlikeness  of  soul  and  body  in  sponta- 
neous thought  has  led  to  a  very  general  conviction  that 
this  mutual  affection  is  impossible ;  and  many  theories 
have  been  invented  to  escape  it.  Materialism  and  idealism 
go  around  it  by  denying  either  the  soul  or  the  body.  The 
Cartesians  invented  their  theory  of  occasionalism,  accord- 
ing to  which  physical  and  mental  states  do  not  cause  each 
other,  but  are  the  occasion  upon  which  a  cause  above  both 
produces  one  or  the  other,  according  to  circumstances. 
Leibnitz  further  showed  that  the  interaction  of  soul  and 
body  is  nothing  especially  difficult,  but  that  all  interaction 
between  any  two  things  whatever  is  equally  mysterious. 
As  his.  solution,  he  proposed  the  doctrine  of  the  pre-estab- 
lished harmony,  according  to  which  all  things  were  so 
adjusted  to  one  another  in  the  beginning  that  they  run 


INTERACTION  OF   SOUL  AND  BODY.  299 

together  yet  without  any  dynamic  influence.  The  discus- 
sion of  these  difficulties  belongs  to  metaphysics.  For  our 
purpose  it  is  indifferent  what  view  we  adopt,  as  we  only 
aim  to  discover  the  law  of  their  mutual  changes.  Vie  will 
only  add,  that  the  fancy  that  the  interaction  of  soul  and 
body  is  a  specially  difficult  problem  rests  upon  the  further 
fancy  that  matter  is  a  series  of  inert  lumps  which  act  only 
by  impact,  —  a  whim  which  is  absolutely  groundless.  The 
presence  of  a  spark  determines  oxygen  and  hydrogen  to 
unite ;  the  affection  of  a  nerve  determines  the  mind  to  feel. 
One  fact  is  just  as  mysterious  as  the  other. 

The  first  question  we  consider  concerns  the  mutual  space 
relations  of  soul  and  body,  or,  as  it  is  commonly  called, 
the  seat  of  the  soul.  This  question,  of  course,  exists  only 
on  the  supposition  that  space  is  real ;  and  this  reality 
metaphysics  finds  reasons  for  doubting.  Apart  from  this 
scruple  the  following  considerations  are  possible  : 

1.  Misled  by  the  apparent  immediateness  of  sensation 
in  every  part  of  the  body,  many  have  held  that  the  sen- 
sation is  felt  where  it  seems  to  be,  and  hence  that  the 
soul  is  omnipresent  in  the  body.  But  the  simple  fact  that 
there  is  no  sensation  unless  there  be  continuous  nerve 
communication  with  the  brain  disposes  of  this  view,  or  at 
least  of  its  apparent  grounds.  It  is  hardly  credible  that 
the  soul  which  is  in  the  fingers,  and  feels  in  the  fingers,  is 
still  unable  to  feel  until  a  nervous  affection  has  been  trans- 
mitted to  the  brain.  Hence  there  is  a  very  general  agree- 
ment that  the  seat  of  the  soul  is  in  the  brain.  This  belief, 
together  with  the  assumption  that  action  can  only  take 
place  through  contact,  led  the  earlier  anatomists  to  look 
for  some  central  point  in  the  brain  in  which  all  the  nerves, 
sensory  and  motor  alike,  should  have  a  common  junction. 
Such  a  point,  it  was  assumed,  would  certainly  be  the  seat 
of  the  soul.  The  Cartesians  fancied  for  a  time  that  such  a 
point  had  been  found  in  the  pineal  gland  ;  and  this  was 


300  PSYCHOLOGY. 

called  the  seat  of  the  soul  in  the  Cartesian  philosophy.  In 
fact,  however,  there  is  no  such  point  of  common  junction 
in  the  brain ;  or  we  may  say  that  there  is  no  central 
station  to  which  all  messages  come  and  from  which  all 
messages  proceed. 

2.  Must  we,  then,  think  of  the  soul  as  omnipresent  in 
the  brain,  or  as  located  at  any  or  all  of  the  nerve  endings  ? 
This  is  purely  a  matter  of  taste.     The  statement  that  the 
soul  is  in  the  brain  means  only  that  the  soul  is  in  direct 
interaction  with  the  brain.     A  change  in  the  brain  is  at- 
tended  liy  a   change  in  the  soul,  and,  conversely,  a  change 
in  the  soul  may  be  attended  by  a  change  in  the  brain  ;  but 
it  is  not  necessary  to  think  them  in  contact.     Astronomy 
finds  no  difficulty  in  the  assumption  that  one  atom  can 
immediately  affect  another,  across  the  whole  diameter  of 
the  system,  or  that  it  can  immediately  affect  all  others  at 
the .  same  time.     If,  then,  the  soul  is  really  in  space,  it  is 
entirely  possible  that  the  interaction  of  the  soul  and  body 
should  occur  as  it  does,  if  the  soul  were. in  the  third  heaven 
or  elsewhere.     There  is  further  no  need  of  finding  some 
one  point  in  the  brain  with  which  alone  the  soul  is  in  con- 
tact ;  but  just  as  physics  teaches  that  an  atom  may  stand  in 
immediate  relations  to  many  others,  so  the  soul  may  stand 
in  immediate  relations  to  many  elements  in  the  brain,  yet 
without  being  in  contact  with  any  of  them.     Beyond  the 
fact  that  physical  and  mental  states  may  mutually  deter- 
mine each  other,  the  question  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the 
soul  in  the  body  is  idle  and   empty.     If  it  should  turn 
out  that  space  itself  is  only  a  mode  of  appearance,  and 
not  a  fact  of  reality,  of  course  the  question  would  vanish 
of  itself. 

3.  What  has  just  been  said  applies  only  to  the  conscious 
activities  of  the  soul.     If  we  should  assume,  with  some 
writers,  that  the  soul  organizes  and  maintains  the  body, 
there  would  be  nothing  to  forbid  the  thought  that  in  this 


INTERACTION  OF   SOUL  AND  BODY.  301 

organic  activity  the  soul  is  in  direct  interaction  with  all 
parts  of  the  nervous  system,  though  aroused  to  conscious- 
ness only  by  changes  in  the  brain. 

The  use  of  the  body  by  the  soul  is  a  question  of  far  more 
significance.  It  is  very  common  to  speak  of  the  body  as 
the  instrument  of  the  soul ;  and  many  figures  of  speech  are 
employed  which  are  rather  more  definite  than  the  facts 
warrant.  The  soul  is  the  harper,  the  body  the  harp  ;  the 
soul  is  the  boatman,  the  body  the  boat ;  the  soul  is  the 
agent,  the  body  the  instrument.  All  these  expressions 
imply  a  more  external  relation  than  really  exists ;  and 
they  imply  besides  a  knowledge  which  the  soul  does  not 
really  possess.  How  does  the  soul  come  to  use  the  body  ? 
and,  How  does  it  use  the  body  ?  are  questions  for  special 
discussion. 

If  we  had  been  left  to  discover  the  use  of  the  body  for 
ourselves,  we  should  never  have  succeeded.  We  know 
directly  nothing  of  the  various  nerves  and  muscles,  and 
their  uses.  We  know  that  we  can  use  the  body ;  but  we 
know  directly  only  the  mental  starting-point  and  the  physi- 
cal resultant.  Of  the  mediating  mechanism  we  know 
directly  nothing;  and  we  should  be  no  better  off  if  we 
did,  as  we  should  be  quite  unable  to  make  any  use  of 
our  knowledge.  The  wisest  anatomist  would  find  himself 
utterly  at  a  loss  to  control  his  body  through  its  mechanism, 
if  he  had  to  manage  the  mechanism  directly.  Indeed,  so 
complete  is  our  ignorance  of  the  motor  mechanism  that 
we  should  probably  never  have  even  suspected  that  the 
body  is  usable,  if  movements  did  not  originate  within  it 
apart  from  any  purpose  or  control  of  ours. 

Several  classes  of  physical  movements  are  to  be  distin- 
guished. First  and  lowest  are  the  reflex  movements. 
These  may  take  place  without  our  knowledge  or  volition  ; 
and  all  we  can  do  in  the  case  is  to  control  them  to  a  greater 
or  less  extent.  The  system  is  able  of  itself  to  carry  out 


302  PSYCHOLOGY. 

certain  movements  necessary  to  life ;.  and  it  seems  also 
able,  under  the  influence  of  internal  and  external  stimuli, 
to  produce  movements  which  have  the  appearance  of  in- 
telligence and  purpose.  By  the  grouping  of  nerves  and 
muscles,  co-ordinated  movements  are  produced  in  response 
to  stimuli  which  are  adapted  to  the  development  and  con- 
servation of  the  organism.  Such  are  the  movements  of 
young  animals  in  sucking  and  swallowing.  Such  also  are 
the  movements  of  coughing,  sneezing,  maintaining  an  up- 
right position,  avoiding  a  blow,  recovering  our  balance, 
etc.  If  we  extend  reflex  action  to  include  all  motor  reac- 
tion against  stimuli,  without  deciding  whether  the  reacting 
agent  is  the  nervous  system  or  the  soul,  we  may  probably 
include  all  instinctive  action  under  this  head. 

In  the  reflex  movements  the  stimulus  may  be  external 
to  the  soul.  Another  set  of  physical  effects  have  their 
ground  in  an  inner  state  of  the  soul  itself.  This  is  the 
case  with  all  expressions  of  emotion,  such  as  crying  or 
laughing,  and  the  various  physical  expressions  of  joyful  or 
sorrowful,  tranquil  or  excited  states  of  mind.  These  are 
often  so  vehement  as  to  produce  profound  disturbance  of 
the  organic  functions,  and  sometimes  death  itself.  Here  be- 
longs also  the  whole  language  of  expression  through  physi- 
cal bearing  and  appearance.  This  order  is  no  invention 
of  ours ;  nor  do  we  see  the  least  reason  for  it  other  than  a 
teleological  one.  But  the  connection  of  soul  and  body  is 
such  that  a  given  state  of  mind  tends  to  echo  itself  at  once 
in  the  body.  The  will  can  affect  the  connection  only  to 
the  slightest  extent.  In  itself  it  is  no  product  of  human 
volition  or  wisdom,  but  is  rather  a  law  of  nature. 

More  important  in  our  control  of  the  body  is  the  class  of 
movements  which  spring  from  our  conceptions,  especially 
from  our  conceptions  of  the  movements  themselves  and  the 
accompanying  feelings.  These  also  precede  any  distinct 
volition.  There  is  a  tendency  in  our  conceptions  of  con- 


INTERACTION   OF   SOUL  AND  BODY.  303 

crete  activity  to  discharge  themselves  upon  the  motor 
nerves.  Thus  in  reading  we  detect  a  nascent  excitation 
of  the  vocal  mechanism ;  and  many  ignorant  people  can 
hardly  read  at  all  without  reading  aloud.  Again,  when  we 
read  a  detailed  description  of  a  gymnastic  performance 
with  which  we  are  acquainted,  we  find  each  step  accompa- 
nied by  a  corresponding  excitation  of  the  motor  apparatus. 
An  uncultured  person  in  giving  an  account  of  anything  goes 
into  the  most  extensive  gesticulation  corresponding  to  the 
matter  recited.  That  these  results  are  not  due  to  volition 
is  plain  from  the  fact  that  they  follow  all  the  more  surely 
the  more  we  lose  ourselves  in  the  object.  The  effect  is 
still  more  sure  to  follow  when  the  conception  is  accom- 
panied by  some  representation  of  the  appropriate  feeling. 
This  especially  appears  in  our  attempts  to  imitate  some 
movement  requiring  skill,  or  to  produce  a  given  facial 
expression,  etc.  Here  we  know  what  we  want  to  do  with- 
out knowing  how  to  do  it ;  and  not  until  we  have  done  it 
and  distinguished  the  accompanying  feelings  are  we  able 
to  produce  it  at  will.  There  has  been  a  tendency  with 
many  writers  of  physiological  leanings  to  include  all  the 
cases  mentioned  under  reflex  action.  This  is  done  by 
extending  reflex  action  to  include  all  action  which  is  not 
voluntary.  The  result  is  merely  a  verbal  identification  of 
different  things,  with  much  resulting  confusion.  Some  go 
still  further  in  the  same  direction,  and  include  voluntary 
action  under  the  same  head ;  and  by  the  same  device  of 
extending  reflex  action  -to  new  meanings. 

We  conclude,  then,  that  we  learn  to  control  our  bodies 
in  this  way.  First,  the  reflex  mechanism  makes  us  ac- 
quainted with  various  movements  and  their  accompanying 
feelings.  Second,  the  connection  between  soul  and  body 
is  such  that  our  conceptions  tend  to  realize  themselves  in 
corresponding  action.  Third,  when  these  feelings  and  con- 
ceptions are  produced  in  the  mind,  there  is  a  tendency  in 


304  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  organism  to  reproduce  the  corresponding  movements. 
This  order  exists  apart  from  and  before  volition,  and  con- 
stitutes the  possibility  of  our  control  of  the  body.  The 
will  modifies  and  employs  this  order,  but  does  not  originate 
it.  The  function  of  the  will  is  double  in  the  case,  inhibi- 
tory and  directive.  In  the  first  case  we  prevent  movements 
from  taking  place  which  would  result  if  the  nerves  were 
left  to  themselves.  Such  are  the  cases  in  which  we  submit 
to  pain,  and  repress  outcry  and  movement.  Self-control  is 
manifested  largely  in  the  form  of  repressive  action.  Our 
directive  agency  consists  entirely  in  producing  in  ourselves 
the  mental  state  with  which  by  a  mysterious  order  physical 
effects  are  connected.  Further  than  this  our  power  does 
not  extend.  The  execution  of  our  commands  is  taken  up 
by  the  organism  quite  independently  of  any  further  in- 
fluence of  the  will.  We  sometimes  fancy  that  we  feel  our 
own  power  flowing  over  upon  the  body,  or  that  we  feel  the 
strain  of  our  effort ;  but  all  that  we  feel  is  certain  muscular 
sensations  which  result  from  muscular  tension.  Their  use 
is  to  guide  us  in  regulating  the  intensity  of  our  volition  so 
as  not  to  ruin  the  organism,  but  in  themselves  they  are 
effects  of  our  effort,  and  not  the  effort  itself.  Our  will 
reaches  immediately  only  our  mental  states,  and  an  inde- 
pendent world-order  provides  for  the  rest.  The  distinction 
between  willing  and  fulfilling  depends  on  this  fact  to  a 
great  extent. 

In  the  previous  paragraph  we  have  seen  that  the  physical 
mechanism  plays  an  important  part  in  the  development  of 
the  mind.  We  have  now  to  point  out  that  the  mind  plays 
an  equally  important  part  in  the  development  of  the  body. 
While  the  body  initiates  the  mind,  the  mind  perfects  the 
body.  Left  to  itself  the  soul  never  would  learn  to  use  the 
body,  but  the  body  left  to  itself  would  never  come  to  any 
high  development.  The  ease  and  accuracy  with  which 
physical  movements  follow  our  mental  states  admit  of  in- 


INTERACTION  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY.  305 

definite  increase,  as  the  body  itself  becomes  more  sensitive 
to  commands.  This  fact  is  the  basis  of  all  active  physical 
habit  and  of  all  acquired  physical  facility.  In  speaking, 
writing,  piano-playing,  etc.,  we  see  a  host  of  complicated 
movements,  coincident  and  successive,  in  which  the  mental 
representation  scarcely  exists  in  consciousness  at  all,  so 
rapid  is  the  movement.  This  state  of  physical  sensibility 
is  acquired  only  by  practice  ;  but  when  reached,  the  work 
proceeds  without  anything  but  the  general  guidance  of  the 
will.  There  is  a  kind  of  wholesale  willing  which  suffices 
for  the  process.  Such  a  state  is  the  stored-up  result  of 
past  effort,  and  is  due  to  the  mind  as  well  as  to  the  body. 
The  latter  is  simply  receptive  and  retentive ;  the  former 
originates  and  guides.  This  possibility  of  training  the  body 
to  be  the  servant  of  the  mind  is  of  the  utmost  significance 
for  our  mental  life.  Otherwise  we  should  be  ever  learning 
and  never  progressing,  because  of  the  perpetual  need  of 
doing  our  first  works  over  again. 

Physical  habits  are  of  two  kinds,  habits  which  modify 
the  sensibility  alone,  and  habits  which  refer  to  action.  Ex- 
amples of  the  former  class  are  the  acquired  appetites,  such 
as  the  craving  for  rum,  tobacco,  etc.  The  sensibility  hav- 
ing been  stimulated  in  any  abnormal  way  soon  comes  to 
crave  for  renewed  indulgence.  Such  habits  are  the  indirect 
products  of  the  will  through  indolence.  What  is  needed 
for  their  production  is  no  strenuous. self-assertion  and  guid- 
ance, but  only  self -surrender.  This  is  what  has  always 
made  them  seem  unworthy  and  degrading.  These  habits 
result  in  inclination  or  desire  for  gratification. 

The  active  physical  habits  arise  only  through  a  positive 
action  of  the  will.  No  one  passively  acquires  any  active 
habit ;  but  the  self-determining  mind  must  set  itself  a  task, 
and  laboriously  dedicate  itself  to  its  realization.  These 
habits  do  not  result  in  any  pronounced  desire  for  gratifica- 
tion, such  as  attends  the  purely  sensitive  habits. 

20 


306  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  active  physical  habits  also  may  be  distinguished  into 
two  classes,  those  in  which  the  mental  element  diminishes 
as  the  physical  element  increases,  and  those  in  which  it 
does  not.  In  walking,  or  riding,  or  writing,  for  example, 
the  action  is  almost  purely  automatic  when  it  has  once  be- 
come familiar ;  and  the  mind  is  released  from  any  but  the 
most  general  control.  In  many  cases  of  acquired  skill,  on 
the  other  hand,  as  in  music  or  drawing,  there  is  greatly 
increased  facility,  but  the  need  of  attention  is  as  great  as 
ever.  The  two  classes,  however,  admit  of  no  very  sharp 
distinction  except  at  their  extremes. 

How  much  further  the  influence  of  the  mind  upon  the 
body  may  go,  is  a  question  not  easy  to  answer.  Some  re- 
gard even  reflex  action  as  originally  due  to  the  will ;  so 
that  'the  soul,  instead  of  finding  a  reflex  mechanism  ready 
made  as  a  condition  of  its  later  activity,  really  constructs 
that  mechanism  for  itself.  This  conclusion  is  reached, 
however,  by  extending  will  to  cover  all  the  activities  of 
the  soul,  the  unconscious  and  automatic  as  well  as  the 
voluntary. 

This  view  expressed  with  more  regard  to  the  conventions 
of  language  would  be  as  follows.  The  ground  of  form  or 
organic  structure  must  be  sought  somewhere,  either  in  the 
soul,  or  in  the  elements  composing  the  organism,  or  in  a 
third  something  distinct  from  either.  But  the  last  view  is 
operose,  and  multiplies  existences  needlessly.  The  second 
would  lead  to  various  grotesque  assumptions  concerning 
the  nature-  of  the  elements,  and  finally  to  a  mystical  hylo- 
zoism.  Declining  these  two  views,  we  are  shut  up  to  the 
first.  On  this  view,  the  soul  is  an  agent  whose  activities 
are  partly  conscious  and  partly  unconscious.  As  uncon- 
scious, it  constructs  the  body,  and  maintains  its  functions ; 
as  conscious,  it  appears  as  the  mental  self.  The  entire  sub- 
ject is  in  the  profoundest  obscurity  ;  and  any  hypothesis  we 
may  frame  must  be  based  on  speculative  considerations. 


INTERACTION  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY.  307 

The  cerebral  localization  of  mental  functions  has  beqn 
much  discussed.  This  doctrine  is  intelligible  only  as  a 
claim  that  the  nervous  activity  which  accompanies  mental 
action  is  limited  to  particular  parts  of  the  brain,  according 
to  the  kind  of  mental  action.  There  is  a  certain  antece- 
dent probability  in  such  a  view.  The  optic  nerve  condi- 
tions vision ;  the  auditory  nerve  conditions  hearing,  etc. 
It  seems,  then,  quite  possible  that  certain  forms  of  sensa- 
tion are  limited  to  certain  nervous  tracts.  The  subject, 
however,  remains  in  entire  uncertainty. 

The  phrenologists  have  made  us  familiar  with  brain 
charts  and  distributions  of  the  mental  powers;  but  the 
purely  fanciful  character  both  of  their  physiology  and  of 
their  psychology  has  long  been  recognized.  Their  utter- 
ances in  general  have  been  highly  oracular,  as  a  necessary 
consequence  of  the  pecuniary  relations  of  the  "science"; 
and  whenever  they  have  been  unambiguous  they  have  been 
guesses,  or  groundless. 

In  physiology  the  claim  has  often  been  made,  and  by 
many  received,  that  distinct  sensory  and  motor  areas  exist 
in  the  brain ;  but  the  facts  of  vicarious  action  seem  to  show 
that  this,  so  far  as  true,  is  a  kind  of  acquired  division  of 
labor,  rather  than  any  absolute  and  original  localization. 
For  a  long  while  the  organ  of  language  was  regarded  as 
certainly  located  ;  but  not  even  this  fact  can  be  regarded  as 
certainly  established.  Various  attempts  have  also  been 
made  to  estimate  the  mental  value  of  the  brain  by  its  bulk 
or  weight,  both  absolute  and  relative ;  but  they  have  led  to 
nothing.  A  manifest  short-coming  of  these  attempts  was 
that  they  sought  to  measure  only  the  quantity  of  brain,  and 
ignored  its  quality. 

For  the  significance  of  our  mental  states,  in  both  physi- 
cal health  and  disease,  various  works  on  pathology  may  be 
consulted.  In  general,  the  emotions  have  most  influence 
upon  our  physical  well-being. 


308  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  facts  of  the  previous  paragraphs  contain  some  ac- 
count of  the  nervous  waste  which  accompanies  mental 
action  of  whatever  sort.  In  much  of  our  mental  work 
there  is  a  deal  of  physical  labor  directly  involved,  as  in 
reading  or  speaking.  The  organism  must  be  adjusted  to 
the  demands  made  upon  it,  and  these  are  often  great. 
Again,  in  much  of  our  mental  activity  there  is  a  continuous 
demand  made  upon  some  of  the  organs  of  sense.  There  is 
nothing  strange  in  the  nervous  waste  arising  from  such 
labor ;  for  the  organism  is  distinctly  brought  into  play. 
But  apart  from  these  cases  there  is  a  waste  attendant  upon 
thinking  in  general,  without  any  reference  to  the  senses 
whatever.  The  abstract  reflections  of  the  philosopher  and 
the  unpicturable  thinking  of  the  theologian  involve  nervous 
waste,  although  the  objects  dealt  with  are  entirely  super- 
sensible. Can  we  account  for  this  in  any  way,  or  must  we 
simply  accept  it  as  a  fact  ? 

Many  have  claimed,  because  of  these  facts,  that  our 
thoughts  are  but  the  transformation  of  the  nervous  energy 
consumed.  This  claim  rests  upon  a  total  misunderstand- 
ing of  the  general  doctrine  of  energy  in  physics.  The  com- 
mon fancy  is  that  energy  is  an  ethereal  something,  gliding 
from  one  thing  to  another,  and  assuming  various  forms  in 
the  passage.  This  is  sheer  mythology.  Energy  must  al- 
ways be  the  energy  of  something,  and  cannot  exist  in  the 
void  without  a  subject.  In  the  physical  theory,  the  ele- 
ments are  the  subjects  of  the  physical  energies.  But  these 
are  in  such  relations  to  one  another  that  a  given  element, 
a,  may  arouse  energy  in  another  element,  5,  at  the  cost  of 
its  own.  This  is  the  transference  of  energy ;  and,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  transference  of  motion,  there  is  no  proper 
transference,  but  a  propagation. 

Again,  in  this  propagation  the  new  state  produced  may 
be  qualitatively  unlike  the  antecedent.  The  antecedent, 
electricity,  may  have  for  consequent  heat,  light,  motor 


INTERACTION  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY.  309 

power,  etc.  This  qualitative  change  is  the  transformation 
of  energy,  and  consists  simply  in  the  qualitative  unlike- 
ness  of  antecedent  and  consequent. 

If  the  antecedents  and  consequents  be  measured  by  some 
dynamic  standard,  they  are  found  to  be  dynamically  equiv- 
alent in  spite  of  their  qualitative  differences.  This  is  the 
conservation  of-  energy. 

How  far  this  is  from  the  rhetorical  whim  of  a  Protean 
energy  passing  from  thing  to  thing  and  from  form  to  form 
is  evident.  Except  in  a  figurative  sense,  there  is  no  trans- 
ference and  no  transformation.  If  then  the  brain  should 
expend  energy  in  arousing  the  mind  to  activity,  there  would 
be  no  passage  of  physical  energy  into  mental  energy,  but 
an  expenditure  of  the  former  in  inciting  the  mind  to  de- 
velop the  latter.  Whether  such  expenditure  occurs  cannot, 
of  course,  be  known.  It  may  be  that  thinking  costs  the 
brain  something ;  and  it  may  be  that  each  nervous  ante- 
cedent is  fully  accounted  for  in  its  nervous  consequent.  A 
decision  can  be  reached  only  on  speculative  grounds,  and 
then  can  have  only  some  slight  measure  of  probability. 

The  share  of  the  brain  in  thinking  may  be  conceived  as 
follows.  The  interaction  between  mind  and  brain  is  mutual. 
A  given  nervous  state  tends  to  produce  a  specific  sensation, 
and,  conversely,  the  thought  of  that  sensation  tends  to  re- 
produce the  corresponding  physical  state.  This  is  seen  in 
its  most  striking  form  in  the  sensations  which  arise  from 
expectation  or  belief.  In  such  cases  the  nervous  system  is 
so  strongly  affected  that  the  sensation  is  really  produced. 
So  also,  in  the  remembrance  of  an  odor,  a  color,  or  a 
flavor,  a  nascent  excitation  of  the  appropriate  nerves  is 
perceptible.  A  familiar  example  is  the  so-called  water- 
ing of  the  mouth  at  thought  of  some  savory  dish.  In  the 
representation  of  form,  also,  something  of  the  kind  is  prob- 
able in  the  visual  tract.  Hallucinations,  resulting  in  the 
vision  of  unrealities,  reveal  such  a  tendency.  The  same 


310  PSYCHOLOGY. 

fact  in  the  case  of  language  has  already  been  referred  to ; 
and,  as  all  thinking  largely  proceeds  by  means  of  words, 
we  see  a  measure  of  physical  activity  even  in  abstract 
thought.  Certain  forms  of  memory  seem  even  conditioned 
by  this  physical  participation ;  for  example,  it  appears  im- 
possible to  recall  a  piece  of  music  faster  than  we  can  hum 
it.  Finally,  thought  is  very  often  attended  by  emotion; 
and  this  too  has  its  physical  effects,  which  in  general  are 
more  marked  than  any  others.  Thus  we  see  that  any  men- 
tal state  whatever  implies  nervous  action  in  one  form  or 
another,  and  hence  nervous  waste.  Indeed,  this  mutual 
sympathy  of  soul  and  body  is  not  even  strange,  if  we  assume 
that  the  body  itself  is  maintained  only  through  the  organ- 
izing activity  of  the  soul. 

This  subject  is  often  confused  by  speaking  of  nervous 
exhaustion,  instead  of  nervous  waste.  The  exhaustion  felt 
is  our  own,  and  whether  it  is  due  to  the  nervous  waste  or 
to  our  own  effort  is  not  clear.  From  continued  action,  the 
nervous  system  becomes  less  responsive  to  mental  de- 
mands ;  and  it  may  be  that  this  state  of  the  nerves  is  the 
ground  of  our  feeling  of  exhaustion.  But  it  is  equally  pos- 
sible that  pure  mental  functions  are  periodic,  so  that  con- 
tinued effort  and  attention  must  be  followed  by  rest  and 
relaxation.  And  even  allowing  that  the  nerves  are  the 
ground  of  our  exhaustion,  they  may  be  such  only  indirectly  ; 
namely,  by  opposing  increasing  inertia  to  mental  activity, 
and  thereby  demanding  intenser  effort  on  our  part,  and  also 
by  producing  a  great  variety  of  uneasy  feelings,  which  dis- 
tract our  attention  and  thus  hinder  mental  progress.  In 
that  case  the  exhaustion  would  still  arise  within  the  mind 
itself  from  its  relation  to  its  own  activities.  It  may  be, 
then,  that  the  exhaustion  arises  entirely  from  the  mental 
effort ;  and  that  this  would  arise  from  the  same  amount  of 
effort  if  the  nerves  showed  no  waste,  or  even  if  the  body 
were  entirely  away. 


INTERACTION  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY.  311 

The  significance  of  the  body  for  the  mental  life  admits 
of  no  precise  definition.  For  the  materialist,  of  course,  the 
body  is  the  only  ground  and  source  of  the  mental  life.  But 
even  for  the  spiritualist,  the  body  must  have  such  signifi- 
cance as  to  suggest  the  question  whether  the  mind  is  not 
really  dependent  on  the  body  in  the  performance  of  its  own 
functions,  so  that  the  disappearance  of  the  body  would 
mean  the  cessation  of  the  mental  functions.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  we  do  find  mental  disease,  in  its  two  great  forms  of 
idiocy  and  insanity,  connected  with  some  abnormal  physical 
conditions.  We  find  physical  conditions  also  leading  to  a 
general  weakening  of  memory  and  of  .the  rational  power, 
and  often  to  utter  unconsciousness.  Here,  then,  is  a  great 
body  of  facts  which  suggest  that  the  mental  life  cannot  go 
on  without  the  physical.  Can  any  light  be  thrown  on  this 
question  ? 

In  dealing  with  the  problem  we  must  first  look  for  some 
undoubted  facts,  in  the  hope  that  from  them  we  may  find 
our  way  to  the  understanding  of  the  rest.  Now,  the  first 
fact  of  this  sort  is,  that  the  body  is  the  instrument  whereby 
the  soul  gets  all  its  impressions  of  the  outer  world.  It  is 
further  clear,  from  what  we  have  seen  in  treating  of  percep- 
tion, that,  to  have  an  orderly  mental  life,  these  impressions 
must  constitute  an  orderly  series  or  system  of  series.  If 
they  are  disorderly  or  incoherent,  the  soul  has  no  manage- 
able material  to  work  upon  ;  and  the  rational  nature  fails 
to  develop.  The  result  is  idiocy,  varying  in  depth  with  the 
physical  imperfection  from  which  it  springs. 

Or  we  may  suppose  this  disorder  to  begin  after  the  ra- 
tional life  has  been  developed  into  coherent  forms,  and  sen- 
sations have  become  the  signs  of  certain  objects.  If  now 
the  disorder  result  in  producing  sensations  without  the 
presence  of  their  appropriate  objects,  there  will  be  a  series 
of  hallucinations.  If  these  sensations  be  of  a  strange  and 
distressing  nature,  there  will  be  a  vision  of  correspondingly 


312  PSYCHOLOGY. 

frightful  objects.  The  known  laws  of  association  working 
upon  the  sense  data  would  not  fail  to  present  manifold  un- 
canny or  terrific  objects  to  the  mind.  These  objects,  again, 
by  the  same  laws  and  by  the  automatic  connection  of  men- 
tal states  with  the  motor  system,  would  not  fail  to  call  forth 
corresponding  action.  The  result  would  be  delirium  or 
insanity.  In  this  case  the  mental  action  would  be  normal 
or  rational  under  the  assumed  circumstances.  The  fault 
would  be  in  the  sense  data,  and  to  correct  them  would  dis- 
charge the  insanity. 

We  know  that  a  long-continued  strain  of  mind  often 
makes  it  impossible  for  us  to  banish  our  objects.  They 
haunt  us  to  weariness  and  because  of  weariness.  Such  a 
fact  is  explained  by  an  overwrought  state  of  the  nerves, 
whereby  they  fail  to  return  to  their  equilibrium  of  indiffer- 
ence. If,  now,  parts  of  the  nervous  tract  should  become 
permanently  excited  in  this  way,  but  to  a  still  greater 
degree,  we  should  have  a  tendency  of  certain  forms  of 
experience  to  take  and  maintain  possession  of  conscious- 
ness ;  and  these,  working  together  with  the  past  experience 
of  the  individual,  would  produce  "  fixed  ideas  "  of  one  kind 
or  another.  Here  an  unmanageable  experience  is  thrust 
upon  the  mind  from  without,  the  limits  of  self-control  are 
transcended,  and  insanity  of  a  certain  type  sets  in. 

A  certain  amount  of  fixity  in  the  elements  of  experience 
is  necessary  to  rationality.  Without  it  there  can  be  no 
discrimination,  comparison,  or  judgment.  Illustration  is 
found  in  the  rapid  passage  of  objects  across  the  field  of 
vision.  When  the  rapidity  is  too  great,  the  mind  fails  to 
identify  or  retain  anything.  The  same  thing  is  seen  in  the 
wild  flight  of  ideas  in  delirium.  Nothing  is  fixed  or  stable 
enough  to  allow  the  mind  to  grasp  its  objects  in  rational 
comprehension.  If,  now,  the  nervous  system  should  ac- 
quire abnormal  mobility  of  its  parts,  so  that  the  physical 
changes  which  are  attended  by  mental  states  should  sue- 


INTERACTION   OF   SOUL  AND  BODY.  313 

ceed  one  another  with  great  rapidity,  something  of  the 
same  kind  must  happen.  Rational  reflection  would  be 
impeded,  if  not  impossible  ;  and  the  tendency  would  be 
toward  obliteration  of  rationality  altogether. 

Mental  work  is  greatly  aided  by  physical  helps  in  many 
ways.  Compare,  for  example,  the  labor  of  solving  a  geo- 
metrical problem,  or  of  multiplying  a  long  list  of  figures, 
in  the  mind,  with  that  of  doing  the  same  work  when  the 
diagrams  are  drawn  or  the  figures  written  down.  The 
physical  symbol  helps  the  mind  to  keep  the  problem  stead- 
ily before  it,  and  leaves  it  free  for  purely  'rational  effort. 
Such  facts  prove  that  there  are  nervous  states  which  can 
greatly  assist  the  mind  in  some  of  its  operations.  But  the 
facts  of  the  two  preceding  paragraphs  make  it  very  proba- 
ble that  something  of  the  same  kind  exists  in  all  thinking, 
because  of  the  connection  of  thought  with  language  and 
with  physical  images.  If  this  be  so,  then  any  disturbance 
of  the  brain  whereby  it  should  affect  the  mind  only  in  a 
coarse  and  gross  manner,  or  whereby  it  should  become  less 
sensitive  to  mental  states,  would  impede  rational  activity 
as  much  as  it  would  embarrass  a  mathematician  to  take  his 
pencil  and  paper  away  from  him.  More  than  this,  it  would 
tend  to  repress  rational  activity  ;  for  so  long  as  the  mind 
is  subject  to  such  an  order  of  interaction  with  the  body,  a 
disturbance  in  either  member  must  reflect  itself  in  the 
other.  If,  in  addition,  this  state  of  the  nerves  should  be 
the  ground  of  various  vague  and  disturbing  states  of  con- 
sciousness, which  should  haunt  the  mind  and  distract  atten- 
tion, the  higher  forms  of  mental  action  must  be  profoundly 
disturbed.  We  have  constant  illustration  of  such  disturb- 
ance in  the  inability  to  think,  to  fix  the  attention,  and  to 
store  up  facts  for  recollection,  which  attends  the  weariness 
of  every  day  and  ends  in  unconsciousness  every  night. 

The  integrity  of  mental  action  is  very  much  affected  by 
our  general  state  of  physical  feeling.  Great  changes  in 


314  PSYCHOLOGY. 

this  feeling,  so  that  we  are  haunted  or  stormed  upon  by 
queer  and  uninterpretable  sensations,  are  sure  to  result  in 
mental  hallucination,  unless  there  is  a  well-knit  scientific 
habit  of  thought  which  prevents  our  giving  way  to  the  illu- 
sions which  would  otherwise  arise.  It  is  out  of  such  queer 
and  abnormal  feelings  that  the  delusions  of  the  hypochon- 
driac, etc.  arise. 

Again,  the  interaction  of  soul  and  body  extends,  in  all 
probability,  far  beyond  consciousness.  If  we  allow  the 
soul  any  formative  influence  upon  the  body,  we  admit  an 
organic  interaction  which  is  not  conscious.  Yet  the  inter- 
action upon  which  consciousness  depends  can  hardly  be  a 
separate  and  unrelated  one,  but  must  rather  be  a  particu- 
lar phase  of  the  other.  In  that  case  an  abnormal  state  of 
the  organism  must  form  an  impediment  to  the  normal  ac- 
tivity of  the  soul  in  its  organic  manifestation ;  and  because 
of  the  unity  of  the  soul,  such  disturbance  of  its  activity  in 
one  realm  could  hardly  fail  to  have  significance  for  its  total 
activity. 

These  considerations  show  that,  while  the  soul  is  con- 
nected with  the  body,  the  condition  of  the  body  must  have 
the  profoundest  significance  for  the  mental  life.  We  be- 
lieve, also,  that  they  explain  in  principle  all  the  mental 
disturbances  and  aberrations  which  arise  from  physical 
conditions.  We  say  "  in  principle,"  because  there  is  no 
theory  which  enables  us  to  explain  each  fact  in  detail. 
The  most  thorough-going  materialism  is  as  unable  to  ex- 
plain the  detailed  facts  of  our  mental  dependence  on  physi- 
cal conditions  —  for  example,  peculiar  loss  of  memory  —  as 
any  other  theory.  But  the  same  inability  to  follow  our 
principles  into  details  meets  us  everywhere,  even  in  the 
laws  of  mechanics.  We  may  be  perfectly  sure  that  the 
simple  laws  of  force  and  motion  determine  every  move- 
ment in  the  physical  universe ;  and  yet  we  cannot  trace 
them  except  in  the  simplest  instances.' 


INTERACTION  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY.  315 

We  return  now  to  the  question  with  which  we  started. 
Can  the  mental  life  go  on  apart  from  the  body  ?  Taken  by 
themselves,  the  facts  admit  of  a  threefold  interpretation. 
We  may  regard  the  body  (1.)  as  producing  mental  func- 
tions, (2.)  as  necessary  to  mental  functions,  and  (3.)  as 
interfering  with  and  repressing  mental  functions  which  it 
does  not  produce,  and  to  which  it  is  not  necessary.  The 
first  interpretation  is  excluded  by  the  untenability  of  ma- 
terialism. Between  the  other  two,  we  must  observe  that 
the  facts  are  all  negative.  They  do  not  show  us  the  body 
as  necessary  to  the  performance  of  mental  functions,  but 
as  interfering  with  mental  functions.  We  have  also  seen 
that  the  existing  connection  between  physical  and  mental 
states  is  purely  a  factual  one.  Neither  is  seen  to  imply  the 
other ;  and,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  they  could  exist  equally 
well  apart.  When  once  a  mental  life  has  begun,  and  a 
store  of  ideas  iiasHbeen  accumulated,  it  seems  quite  possible 
that  a  self-enclosed  thought  life  might  continue  thereafter 
in  entire  independence  of  any  organism.  No  necessityjPor 
an  organism  appears,  except  for  communication  with  the 
outer  world.  Without  it,  the  soul  would  be  restricted  to 
itself,  having  no  experience  of  the  world  beyond,  and  no 
power  to  act  upon  or  in  that  world.  In  fact,  all  that  is 
needed  here  is  a  system  of  interaction  with  externality, 
whereby  the  soul  may  receive  impulses  from  without,  and 
may  produce  effects  beyond  itself.  On  the  idealistic  theory, 
that  is  all  that  even  the  present  organism  amounts  to. 

The  abstract  possibility  of  our  existing  apart  from  the 
body  admits  of  no  dispute  ;  but  this  is  far  enough  from 
proving  that  we  shall  so  exist.  Yet  the  fact  that  the  soul 
cannot  be  identified  with  the  body"shows  that  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  body  contains  no  assignable  ground  for  the  de- 
struction of  the  soul.  The  indestructibility  of  substance, 
also,  upon  which  physics  is  based,  would  suggest  that  every 
real  thing;  must  be  assumed  to  continue  in  existence  until 


316  PSYCHOLOGY. 

its  annihilation  has  been  proved.  If,  then,  this  subject  is 
to  be  argued  upon  the  basis  of  our  customary  ideas,  the 
burden  of  proof  would  lie  altogether  upon  the  believer  in 
annihilation ;  for  the  soul  is  real,  and  must  be  assumed  to 
exist  until  its  destruction  has  been  shown.  Of  course,  such 
a  showing  is  impossible ;  and  hence  the  presumption  must 
remain  in  favor  of  continued  existence. 

To  this  it  is  urged  in  objection,  that  such  a  claim  would 
imply  the  continued  existence  of  brute  souls ;  and  that  this 
would  be  absurd.  In  fact,  the  absurdity  lies  altogether  in 
the  unfamiliarity  of  the  notion.  That  many  forms  of  ani- 
mal life  should  exist  at  all  is  as  great  an  absurdity  as 
could  well  be  conceived.  That  they  should  continue  to 
exist  would  be  no  greater  one.  The  question,  Of  what  use 
would  they  be  hereafter  ?  is  offset  by  the  equally  unanswer- 
able one,  Of  what  use  are  they  here  ?  We  need  not  reflect 
long  to  see  that  our  artificial  and  anthropomorphic  notions 
of  the  fit  and  the  unfit  cannot  well  be  applied  to  cosmic 
problems. 

In  fact,  however,  none  of  our  customary  ideas  will  help 
us  in  this  matter.  Metaphysics  convinces  us  that  the  entire 
system  of  finite  things  has  its  ground  of  existence,  not  in 
itself,  but  in  one  Infinite  Being,  who  is  the  fundamental 
reality  in  all  existence.  No  finite  thing,  then,  has  any  in- 
alienable right  to  exist  by  virtue  of  its  title  of  substance, 
or  from  any  other  metaphysical  ground  whatever.  Every 
finite  thing,  whether  material  or  spiritual,  begins  to  exist 
because  the  nature  or  plan  of  the  Infinite  calls  for  it.  If 
that  nature  or  that  plan  should  no  longer  demand  its  exist- 
ence, then  that  thing  would  cease  to  be.  We  can  only  lay 
down,  then,  this  formal  principle :  Those  things  that  have 
perennial  significance  for  the  unive7se~  will  abide;  those 
which  have  only  temporary  significance  will  pass  away. 
But  this  principle  admits  of  no  specific  conclusions  on  our 
part.  We  cannot  tell  what  the  plan  of  the  Infinite  may 


INTERACTION  OF   SOUL  AND  BODY.  317 

include  and  what  it  may  exclude.  It  already  includes  so 
much  that  we  should  have  rejected,  that  we  can  hardly 
help  concluding  that  the  data  of  the  problem  lie  beyond  our 
grasp.  The  only  thing  to  which  we  can  attribute  an  abso- 
lute worth  is  moral  goodness,  or  the  moral  personality ; 
but  this  is  a  consideration  drawn  from  the  moral  nature, 
and  not  from  metaphysical  speculation.  In  short,  if  the 
moral  nature  demands  continued  existence,  or  if  any  word 
of  revelation  affirms  it,  there  is  no  fact  or  argument  against 
it.  On  the  other  hand,  apart  from  the  moral  nature  and 
revelation,  pure  speculation  must  occupy  a  somewhat  agnos- 
tic attitude  upon  this  question. 

It  will  be  seen  that  viewing  this  question  from  the  stand- 
point of  values,  instead  of  metaphysics,  removes  the  embar- 
rassments involved  in  the  immortality  of  brutes.  Whoever 
urges  their  immortality  must  show  some  absolute  value  in 
their  existence  which  demands  it.  The  simple  fact  that  all 
have  souls  would  by  no  means  imply  an  essential  likeness 
of  nature.  Souls  are  souls,  no  doubt ;  and  so  are  metals 
metals.  And  just  as  belonging  to  the  one  class  of  metals 
does  not  exclude  'incommensurable  differences  among  the 
members  of  the  class,  so  belonging  to  the  general  class  of 
souls  would  not  exclude  classes  of  souls  which  should  be 
on  different  planes  and  have  impassable  gulfs  between 
them.  As  the  coefficient  of  elasticity  is  different  with 
different  substances  according  to  their  specific  nature,  so 
the  coefficient  of  mentality  may  have  different  values  for 
different  souls. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  coefficient  varies  greatly  even 
within  the  limits  of  the  human  species.  There  are  many 
differences  of  temperament,  talent,  taste,  and  disposition, 
which  are  not  due  to  training,  but  belong  to  the  personal 
constitution.  In  addition  to  being  a  specimen  of  humanity, 
each  one  has  his  personal  equation,  whereby  he  is  rendered 
an  irreducible  individuality.  Of  the  foundation  of  these 


318  PSYCHOLOGY. 

differences  nothing  is  known.  Differences  of  temperament 
are  commonly  referred  to  some  physical  ground ;  but  what 
it  is  is  a  matter  of  surmise.  The  attempt  to  refer  all  men- 
tal differences  to  a  physical  source,  apart  from  the  fact 
that  nothing  is  known  of  that  source,  rests  upon  the  highly 
improbable  fancy  that  all  souls  are  strictly  alike.  Why 
the  spiritual  world  should  be  one  dead  uniformity  or  mo- 
notony, is  not  entirely  apparent.  In  truth,  we  are  misled 
in  such  attempts  by  a  mistaken  ideal  of  explanation ;  and 
as  a  result,  we  go  through  the  forms,  or  make  the  motions, 
of  explanation,  and  forget  to  inquire  whether  we  are  really 
getting  ahead. 


SLEEP  AND  ABNORMAL  MENTAL  PHENOMENA.   319 


CHAPTER  V. 

SLEEP  AND  ABNORMAL  MENTAL  PHENOMENA. 

IF  we  take  the  conscious  activities  of  our  normal  wak- 
ing moments  as  a  standard  of  reference,  experience  shows 
many  departures  therefrom.  The  most  familiar  of  these 
is  normal  sleep. 

The  causes  of  sleep  are  not  fully  understood.  At  first 
sight,  physical  exhaustion  seems  to  be  the  evident  cause ; 
but  this  is  not  the  only  factor  ;  for  there  can  be  great  wea- 
riness without  sleep,  and  sleep  can  be  produced  without 
weariness.  Being  too  tired  to  sleep  is  a  familiar  experi- 
ence ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  sleep  is  often  produced  by  an 
easy  physical  position,  a  monotony  of  idea,  or  simple  men- 
tal emptiness.  A  case  is  recorded  of  a  lad  whose  senses 
were  limited  to  a  single  eye  and  ear,  and  who  could  be  put 
to  sleep  simply  by  closing  the  eye  and  stopping  the  ear. 
A  variety  of  gentle  manipulations,  also,  such  as  strok- 
ing, combing  the  hair,  and  the  like,  have  a  marked  sopo- 
rific effect.  The  effect  of  ennui  is  well  known.  In  various 
forms  of  mesmeric  experiments,  also,  the  same  fact  is  seen. 
Certain  rhythmic  movements  of  the  body,  as  rocking  or 
swinging,  are  also  soporific.  Finally,  the  action  of  anes- 
thetics in  producing  sleep  is  noteworthy.  None  of  these 
cases  can  be  brought  under  the  head  of  exhaustion ;  and 
except  in  the  last  case  none  of  them  can  be  shown  to 
produce  any  chemical  products  to  which  sleep  might  be  re- 
ferred. Further,  the  suddenness  with  which  in  many  cases 
sleep  may  follow  upon  the  most  complete  mental  activity 
forbids  any  thought  of  a  gradual  exhaustion  of  nervous 
force.  Many  persons  are  at  their  best  at  night.  In  short, 


320  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  immediate  cause  of  sleep  is  not  known.  If  WQ  refer  it 
to  a  periodicity  of  either  physical  or  mental  functions,  we 
merely  construct  a  phrase ;  and  if  we  insist  that  it  has 
physical  grounds,  we  cannot  tell  what  they  are,  nor  how 
they  are  connected  with  the  effect. 

If  we  measure  the  depth  of  sleep  by  the  amount  of 
stimulus  needed  to  awaken  the  sleeper,  we  may  say  that 
this  depth  is  a  varying  quantity.  In  general,  it  is  deepest 
directly  after  going  to  sleep.  The  amplitude  of  the  sleep- 
curve  reaches  a  maximum  from  which  it  soon  declines,  and 
remains  nearly  constant  until  waking.  The  depth  varies 
greatly  with  different  persons,  some  being  light  sleepers 
and  others  sound  sleepers.  It  also  varies  with  the  same 
person  according  to  his  habit  or  state  of  mind.  When 
we  have  something  on  our  mind,  or  when  we  are  to  rise 
at  an  unusually  early  hour,  sleep  is  often  fitful  and  dis- 
turbed. 

The  depth  of  sleep  is  variable  in  another  respect,  in  that 
stimuli  of  the  sensory  nerves  may  work  upon  the  mind  and 
produce  their  appropriate  sensations.  The  reaction  of  the 
mind  upon  these  may  take  the  form  of  simple  association 
of  the  impressions,  or  of  a  rational  interpretation  of  them. 
Questions  may  be  answered,  and  even  various  activities 
originated  in  connection  with  them,  yet  without  leaving 
any  abiding  impression  upon  the  memory  of  the  sleeper. 

Out  of  this  fact  comes  the  explanation  of  the  fantastic 
character  of  dreams.  The  power  which  is  pre-eminently 
in  abeyance  in  sleep  is  that  of  rational  attention  and  self- 
control,  upon  which  the  higher  forms  of  consciousness 
depend.  The  result  is  that  any  disturbing  sensation  that 
may  arise  has  the  mind  to  itself.  It  is  not  confronted  by 
the  realities  of  visual  experience ;  it  is  not  compared  with 
the  system  of  waking  experience  ;  it  does  not  pass  under 
the  scrutiny  of  the  judgment;  and  hence  its  nonsense  or 
absurdity  remains  unperceived.  The  laws  of  association 


SLEEP  AND  ABNORMAL  MENTAL  PHENOMENA.   321 

are  left  free  to  work  it  over  by  any  haphazard  connection 
of  experience,  or  to  give  it  any  whimsical  form  whatever. 
In  our  waking  moments,  when  we  allow  the  laws  of  asso- 
ciation similar  play,  we  have  similar  disconnected  and  wild 
vagaries ;  and  if  we  took  them  for  real  as  we  do  in  dreams, 
we  should  have  essentially  the  dreaming  state.  In  the  lat- 
ter, our  objects  are  seldom  compared  with  reality  or  with 
past  experience  ;  and  all  measures  of  time,  of  rationality, 
and  of  possibility  are  lacking.  Hence  we  are  rarely  sur- 
prised at  anything  in  dreams,  but  view  the  most  extraordi- 
nary event  as  a  matter  of  course.  This  failure  to  estimate 
the  true  significance  of  action  and  experience  in  dreams 
often  results  in  the  greatest  emotional  indifference  to  the 
most  shocking  deeds.  But  for  this  quiescence  of  the  judg- 
ment, sleep  might  become  a  perpetual  nightmare. 

The  dream  consciousness  is  ofcen  originated  by  actual 
sensations,  which  are  then  worked  over  into  some  grotesque 
but  correspondent  form.  These  sensations  may  be  pe- 
ripherally or  centrally  initiated.  Many  experiments  have 
been  made  to  test  the  effect  of  special  sensations  in  ini- 
tiating or  determining  dreams,  and  the  results  are  some- 
times striking.  Actual  sensations,  when  not  the  source  of 
the  dream  consciousness,  often  modify  it.  Along  with  the 
dream  goes  a  vague  consciousness  of  the  body  and  its 
actual  condition,  and  this  becomes  a  factor  of  the  dream 
itself.  This  is  probably  the  reason  why  we  sometimes 
dream  of  being  in  undress  in  public. 

The  peculiar  sense  of  failure  in  most  dreams  which  re- 
late to  physical  activities  seems  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
appropriate  senses  fail  to  be  deceived.  Thus,  it  is  pecu- 
liarly difficult  for  many  to  persuade  a  gun  to  go  off  in  a 
dream.  This  apparently  results  from  the  unwillingness  of 
the  ear  to  lend  itself  to  the  deception  ;  and  the  noise  being 
lacking,  there  is  a  sense  of  failure  which  explains  itself  as 
a  missing  fire  on  the  part  of  the  gun. 

21 


322  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Dream  activity  may  sometimes  rise  to  the  height  of  sus- 
tained rational  effort,  but  very  rarely.  As  a  rule,  we  do 
little  that  is  worth  while  in  dreams.  Instances  are  re- 
ported of  a  high  order  of  mental  action  and  insight  in  the 
dreaming  state ;  and  most  persons  have  had  experience  of 
something  of  the  kind.  This  experience,  however,  is  often 
illusory.  If  we  succeed  in  catching  or  recalling  the  pro- 
found or  witty  saying,  we  generally  find  it  shallow  or  flat 
enough.  The  wit  and  insight  turn  out  to  be  as  illusory  as 
dreams  in  general. 

The  materials  of  dreams  are  all  drawn  from  waking  ex- 
perience. There  is  no  revelation  of  strange  powers  or 
strange  forms  of  mental  action.  The  prophetic  character 
of  dreams  finds  no  support  in  experience,  except  very  rarely 
in  cases  of  disease  ;  and  here  the  dream  is  probably  due  to 
the  disease  which  has  already,  though  secretly,  begun.  At 
the  same  time,  dreams  seldom  reproduce  actual  experience, 
and  never  without  modification.  The  things  we  deal  with 
during  the  day  by  no  means  always  furnish  the  material  of 
our  dreams.  Indeed,  it  is  rather  the  rule  that  the  dream 
withdraws  us  into  a  fictitious  world,  so  that  it  is  oftener 
creative  than  reproductive. 

No  single  explanation  of  dreams  is  possible,  as  dreams 
do  not  fall  into  a  single  class.  Dreams  are  often  gro- 
tesque and  incoherent;  but  sometimes  they  are  rational 
and  coherent.  Sometimes  the  most  alarming  situations 
cause  no  fear,  and  sometimes  they  fill  us  with  terror. 
Sometimes  there  is  the  utmost  emotional  and  ethical  indif- 
ference to  the  most  distressing  circumstances;  and  some- 
times there  is  extreme  sorrow  or  remorse.  The  most 
prominent  form  of  mental  activity  in  dreams  is  that  of  as- 
sociation apart  from  any  rational  control ;  and  this  has  led 
to  the  claim  that  in  dreams  the  will  is  asleep.  But  this 
is  by  no  means  always  the  case.  While  the  associative 
activity  is  in  general  the  leading  one,  the  other  forms 


SLEEP  AND  ABNORMAL  MENTAL  PHENOMENA.   323 

of  mental  action,  as  will,  rational  thought,  and  creative 
imagination  also  appear  to  a  greater  or  less  extent. 

The  most  marked  distinction  between  waking  fancies 
and  dreams  is  the  greater  vividness  and  objectivity  of  the 
latter.  In  dreams  we  appear,  not  to  fancy,  but  to  perceive. 
In  explanation,  it  is  said  that  our  sensations  are  always 
projected  outward  in  our  waking  moments,  and  that  dreams 
do  but  follow  the  same  law.  This  would  suppose,  however, 
either  that  dream  objects  are  always  founded  on  sensations, 
or  that  the  mind  produces  the  sensations  appropriate  to 
its  conceptions  and  thus  reaches  a  ground  of  objectivity. 
Again,  it  is  said  that  the  reason  for  the  greater  objectivity 
of  objects  in  dreams  over  waking  fancies  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  latter  are  constantly  compared  with  the  real  world 
of  things,  and  are  thus  made  to  appear  in  their  subjective 
nature.  In  dreams  our  fancies  are  not  thus  compared,  and 
hence  assume  to  be  real  objects.  This  explanation,  how- 
ever, cannot  get  on  without  assuming  that  the  mind  tends 
to  project  its  objects  under  the  forms  of  thought. 

Sometimes  a  dream  may  be  acted  out.  This  is  the  case 
in  somnambulism.  Sometimes  the  dream  adapts  itself  to 
the  external  situation ;  and  sometimes  it  assimilates  objects 
to  itself.  Sleep-walking  illustrates  the  former ;  the  fon- 
dling of  inanimate  objects,  say  the  pillow,  illustrates  the 
latter.  Fortunately,  sleep  is  generally  accompanied  by  an 
inhibition  of  motor  activity  :  otherwise  every  dream  in- 
volving the  representation  of  bodily  movement  would  drive 
the  dreamer  out  of  bed. 

The  question  is  often  raised  whether  the  mind  is  ever 
completely  inactive  even  in  sleep.  This  involves  the  rela- 
tion of  dreams  to  sleep.  Some  hold  that  dreams  indicate 
imperfect  sleep,  and  others  claim  that  they  are  the  general 
form  of  mental  activity  during  sleep.  Apparently  sleep 
is  often  dreamless  ;  but  the  claim  is  made  that  this  is  due 
to  a  failure  to  remember  our  dreams.  This  is  not  so  vio- 


PSYCHOLOGY. 

lent  a  supposition  as  appears ;  for  the  leading  character- 
istic  of  dreams,  as  disconnected  and  irrational,  makes  them 
especially  difficult  to  remember.     The  bulk  of  the  day's 
experience  is  forgotten  before  night;   it  would  not,  then, 
be  strange  if  the  bulk  of  the  night's  experience  should 
vanish  before  day.     Hamilton  sought  to  test  the  matter  by 
having  himself  frequently  awakened.     He  claimed  that  he 
always  found  himself  dreaming.     It  is  a  common  experi- 
ence to  find  on  waking  that  we  have  been  busy  with  some- 
thing ;  though  this  quickly  escapes  us,  unless  we  grasp  it 
at  once.     To  this  it  is  replied,  that  these  dreams  are  only 
the  transition  from  sleeping  to  waking,  the  first  stirrings 
of  reviving  intelligence.     On  the  other  hand,  we  often  find 
persons  giving  all  the  signs  of  dreaming  in  their  sleep, 
yet  without  any  memory  of  their  dream  on  waking.     The 
somnambulist  seldom,  if  ever,  recalls  his  dream.     Plainly 
memory  is  no  test  of  past  mental  activity;   for  memory 
does  not  retain  the  details  of  our  waking  life  from  one 
hour  to  another,  and  often  not  from  one  minute  to  another. 
The  continuity  of  mental  action  is  certainly  not  disproved  ; 
and  a  study  of  the  facts  serves  to  lessen  its  apriori  incredi- 
bility.   Of  course,  it  admits  of  no  strict  proof.    In  any  case, 
the  mind  may  retain  a  certain  power  of  discrimination, 
even  in  sleep.     A  customary  sensation  is  ignored ;  but  an 
unusual  one  may  lead  to  a  speedy  waking.     The  smell  of 
fire,  the  stopping  of  the  train,  the  movement  of  the  invalid, 
any  suspicious  noise  or  circumstance,  will  often  arouse  us, 
while  a  familiar  or  insignificant  sensation  has  no  effect. 

If  we  take  the  rational  activity  of  our  self-conscious 
waking  moments  as  a  standard,  the  dream  activity  must 
appear  as  imperfect  and  abnormal.  On  this  account  some 
writers  have  affirmed  a  parallelism  between  dreams  and  in- 
sanity amounting  almost  to  an  identification.  This  amounts 
to  no  more  than  saying  that  a  waking  person  whose  men- 
tal activity  remained  as  grotesque  and  incoherent  as  most 


325 

dreams  would  not  be  regarded  as  sane.  It  would  hardly 
tend  to  clearness,  however,  to  say  that  every  sleeping  person 
is  insane. 

Closely  allied  to  sleep  is  the  hypnotic  or  mesmeric  con- 
dition. We  have  seen  that  in  dreams  the  senses  are  not  en- 
tirely inactive,  and  that  we  may  to  some  extent  direct  the 
dreamer's  thought  and  action  by  external  suggestions.  The 
marked  feature  of  the  hypnotic  state,  psychologically  con- 
sidered, is  that  the  patient  is  especially  sensitive  to  such 
suggestions.  They  are  taken  up  with  the  same  complete 
lack  of  criticism  with  which  we  take  up  any  fancy  which 
occurs  in  dreams.  The  result  is  the  same  failure  to  see 
the  absurdity  of  the  situation  which  is  so  characteristic  of 
dreams.  The  reflective  and  critical  activity  is  in  abeyance, 
and  the  laws  of  association  and  the  operator  are  free  to 
sport  with  us.  The  state  is  further  accompanied  at  times 
by  an  extraordinary  insensibility  to  pain. 

This  state  is  produced  in  various  ways.  Passes  of  the 
hand  before  the  eyes,  stroking  the  face,  staring  at  bright 
objects,  and  in  particular  the  expectation  of  the  result,  all 
produce  this  condition.  The  last  element  is  so  effective 
that  Dr.  Carpenter  has  founded  his  explanation  of  the  facts 
on  the  influence  of  expectation.  That  this  does  not  meet 
all  cases  is  plain  from  the  fact  that  the  hypnotic  condition 
can  be  produced  in  animals,  such  as  rabbits  and  pigeons  ; 
and  it  has  been  suggested  that  the  so-called  "playing 
dead  "  of  animals,  as  the  opossum,  is  hypnotism  produced 
by  fear. 

The  immediate  causes  of  hypnotism,  like  those  of  sleep, 
arc  not  known.  There  is,  however,  universal  agreement 
among  investigators  that  the  notion  of  an  animal  mag- 
netism, or  of  a  direct  influence  of  the  will  of  the  operator, 
is  sheer  mistake  when  not  fraud.  The  facts  themselves 
are  very  curious ;  but  the  pecuniary  exigencies  of  a  pub- 
lic and  popular  exhibition  are  such  that  one  is  justified 


326  PSYCHOLOGY. 

in  not.  accepting  all  that  is  said,  or  that  appears  at  such 
shows,  without  several  grains  of  salt.  In  general,  there  is  a 
great  difference  in  persons  as  to  their  sensibility  to  the  so- 
called  influence.  For  the  best  results  an  unstable  nervous 
system  and  a  loosely  knit  intellect  are  indispensable.  In  all 
cases  the  effect  upon  the  nervous  system  is  mischievous. 

Insanity  remains  to  be  considered.  If  by  sanity  we  un- 
derstand the  ideal  working  of  all  our  faculties,  we  must 
say  that  it  nowhere  exists.  The  narrowness  of  prejudice, 
the  mulislmess  of  obstinacy,  indifference  to  worthy  things, 
and  overwhelming  interest  in  trifles,  are  customary,  but 
abnormal,  mental  states.  The  term  insanity,  however,  is 
generally  reserved  for  cases  where  there  is  some  marked 
delusion  in  perception,  or  some  decided  reversal  of  the 
ordinary  estimates  of  the  common  relations  of  daily  life. 
We  consider  only  its  mental  aspect. 

From  the  psychological  side,  the  most  prominent  fea- 
tures of  insanity  are  the  existence  of  various  hallucinations 
and  sense  illusions,  profound  changes  in  feeling  and  dis- 
position, and  the  growing  concentration  of  ideas  within 
an  ever  narrowing  circle,  at  the  centre  of  which  is  the 
fixed  idea.  It  is,  however,  pure  superstition  to  fancy  that 
any  new  and  strange  mental  powers  are  revealed,  or  that 
any  diabolical  agency  is  at  work.  All  the  factors  at  work 
in  the  insane  mind  are  found  in  normal  mental  action. 
The  sweet  bells  are  jangled  out  of  tune ;  but  it  is  the 
same  set  of  bells. 

If  from  any  cause  the  sensory  nerves  become  abnormally 
sensitive,  and  tend  to  produce  queer  sensations,  we  have 
all  the  conditions  for  the  delusions  of  the  hypochondriac, 
etc.  An  abnormal  physical  state  is  produced  ;  and  this 
is  interpreted  by  the  person  in  accordance  with  various 
notions,  customary  conceptions,  or  current  superstitions. 
If  the  visual  tract  is  disturbed,  then  visions  occur.  If 
there  is  not  sufficient  strength  of  mind  and  range  of  knowl- 


SLEEP  AND  ABNORMAL  MENTAL  PHENOMENA.   327 

edge  to  recognize  these  in  their  illusory  character,  they 
furnish  the  occasion  for  boundless  correspondent  changes 
in  the  course  of  thought  and  action.  When  the  physical 
disturbance  is  such  as  to  hinder  the  higher  forms  of  mental 
activity,  insanity  soon  passes  into  imbecility. 

Profound  disturbances  of  feeling  also  arise,  and  modify 
the  mental  life  ;  indeed,  the  claim  is  made  that  all  insanity 
begins  in  disturbance  of  feeling.  Such  feeling  demands 
interpretation,  and  the  mind  adjusts  itself  and  its  thoughts 
to  it.  The  specific  notions  arising  depend  upon  the  indi- 
vidual experience.  The  person  may  think  himself  perse- 
cuted or  forsaken,  saved' or  lost.  The  idea  once  suggested 
will  gather  the  whole  mind  to  itself,  and  even  force  itself 
upon  external  experience.  The  patient  is  surrounded  by 
angels  or  demons,  friends  or  enemies,  all  alike  imaginary. 
The  end  of  this  state  is  to  narrow  consciousness  down  to  a 
fixed  idea,  in  which  all  rationality  is  slowly  extinguished. 
The  self-control  which  is  necessary  to  a  rational  life  is 
lost ;  and  all  the  mentality  that  is  left  is  simply  the  chaotic 
movement  of  the  associative  mechanism,  and  the  automatic 
movements  resulting  therefrom.  In  short,  from  such  a 
connection  of  soul  and  body  as  has  been  described  in  the 
previous  chapter,  from  the  known  action  of  the  laws  of 
association  when  freed  from  rational  control,  and  from  the 
tendency  of  the  mind  to  give  a  rational  form  to  all  its  ex- 
periences, the  facts  of  insanity  are  easily  explained  in  prin- 
ciple as  outcomes  of  familiar  laws. 

The  ground  of  insanity  is  always  assumed  to  be  physical. 
While  we  have  no  wish  to  dispute  this,  it  can  hardly  be 
said  to  be  made  out.  In  many  cases  some  physical  ground 
can  be  shown ;  but  in  many  others  nothing  can  be  discov- 
ered which  has  not  been  found  in  the  brains  of  sane  per- 
sons. Of  course,  we  may  say  there  may  be  "lesions" 
below  vision  ;  but  while  their  non-appearance  does  not  cer- 
tainly disprove  their  reality,  it  can  hardly  be  said  to  prove 


328  PSYCHOLOGY. 

it.  Still,  there  is  endless  room  for  speaking  of  disturbances 
of  function,  lowering  of  tone,  variation  of  excitability,  etc. ; 
and  withal,  all  use  of  medicine,  it  is  said,  must  rest  on  the 
assumption  that  the  disease  is  physical,  and  only  seconda- 
rily mental.  The  original  cause  of  insanity  is  indeed  very 
often  mental,  — love,  business,  bereavement,  religion,  etc.; 
but  it  is  assumed  in  such  cases  that  insanity  does  not  be- 
come established  until  the  mental  strain  has  wrought  some 
abnormal  change  in  the  brain.  Apart  from  this,  the  mind 
is  supposed  to  have  sufficient  elasticity  to  recover  its  men- 
tal state.  Still,  it  does  not  appear  why  an  overmastering 
association,  amounting  to  a  fixed  idea,  might  not  be  formed 
in  the  mind  itself ;  and  just  as  little  does  it  appear  why 
one  might  not  "  minister  to  a  mind  diseased  "  through  the 
body,  so  long  as  the  latter  has  influence  upon  the  former. 
In  any  case,  mental  treatment  is  quite  as  important  as 
physical,  both  for  prevention  and  for  cure. 

The  claim  is  often  made  that  extraordinary  powers  and 
processes  sometimes  manifest  themselves.  Clairvoyance, 
direct  relations  with  persons  otherwise  than  through  the 
senses,  mind-reading,  various  spiritualistic  performances, 
are  illustrations.  The  apriori  possibility  of  such  things 
cannot  be  denied ;  but  before  any  faith  is  put  in  them  the 
alleged  facts  should  be  subjected  to  the  most  rigid  scrutiny. 
Apparitions  in  general  admit  of  easy  pathological  expla- 
nation. In  the  other  matters  the  amount  of  demonstrated 
fraud  is  so  great  as  to  cast  the  strongest  suspicion  over  the 
whole.  All  the  circumstances,  too,  are  suspicious,  such  as 
the  need  of  working  in  the  dark,  or  of  being  out  of  sight, 
etc.  Of  course,  we  can  say  that  the  spirits  cannot  write 
upon  a  slate  in  plain  sight ;  but  most  minds  will  find  the 
hypothesis  of  knavery  quite  as  adequate  to  the  facts,  and 
more  in  line  with  the  continuity  of  experience.  In  general, 
there  is  a  very  strong  presumption  against  any  alleged  fact 
which  stands  apart  from  the  established  order  of  life. 


SLEEP  AND  ABNORMAL  MENTAL  PHENOMENA. 


329 


Telepathy,  too,  cannot  be  proved  impossible,  and  in  itself 
it  would  not  be  any  more  mysterious  than  the  common  facts 
of  perception ;  but,  for  the  reason  just  mentioned,  the  ut- 
most care  must  be  exercised  in  determining  the  facts  before 
placing  any  faith  in  them ;  and  then  a  certain  lukewarm- 
ness  is  highly  to  be  recommended.  .  One  would  need  to 
know  the  character  and  mental  habit  of  the  person  report- 
ing such  an  experience,  and  also  the  nature  of  the  appari- 
tion or  impression,  and  whether  the  later  experience  had 
not  given  the  impression  a  vividness  and  definiteness  in 
memory  which  it  did  not  originally  have.  Consideration  of 
these  and  similar  points  will  generally  reduce  the  marvel  to 
very  slight  dimensions.  Indeed,  we  have  never  known  a 
single  case  of  these  extraordinary  powers,  processes,  and 
events  which  on  examination  did  not  resolve  itself  either 
into  vulgar  trickery  or  into  a  thoughtless  magnifying  of 
the  commonplace  into  the  marvellous. 


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